The False Chronicles: Displacement
by Nabiki GMYW
Summary: They told him his life would never be the same but he didn't listen. Now Dennis Anderson has to deal with an eccentric millionaire, a disgruntled cop, a man who may be dead… and then some. Chapter 1 (of 8) – Displacement


**The False Chronicles**

_Chapter One - Displacement_

By Nabiki GMYW

Brief summary: They told him his life would never be the same but he didn't listen. Now Dennis Anderson has to deal with an eccentric millionaire, a disgruntled cop, a man who may be dead… and _then some. Chapter 1 (of 8) – Displacement_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gargoyles. I own socks. And sneakers. And stuff. But not Gargoyles. Definitely not Gargoyles. Gargoyles and co belong to Disney, everyone else belongs to me. Poor, poor little me. Email me for comments at paganj@caribe.net  I own that email. Really, I do.

While this is hardly my first story, it's been almost a year since I last posted anything, so those interested can look up my other work on the Gargoyles Fan Website or ff.net archives. As for the story, it's part of the long tradition of Nabiki mind-benders, so those who know me (all three of you) know what to expect. To those who don't, keep your eyes open. The window-washer said it best once: "All will be made clear…" *evil cackle* 

Special thank yous go to Nemi, Edmodia Dantes, Aria Nightshadow, Dracuella and Caboose for putting up with this mad experiment, correcting and commenting on the story. Without you guys, this story wouldn't be readable. But enough with the disclaimer! Let's get this party started_, _eh? J

_"Okay, since the Gargoyles universe is one run by fate (I think we can agree on that?), there can be no such thing as a temporal paradox. All changes in the past have already been made by the time you decide to make them; therefore, history is unalterable. And when history is unalterable, you can't create a paradox by altering it. It gets pointless to speculate about what-if in this case (What if Goliath hadn't moved fast enough to save Griff? What if the Archmage had missed and not caught his younger self, plummeting to his death?...), because of the fate aspect; any sequence of events other than the events that happened is, quite simply, impossible."_

_— Batya "the Toon's" theory on time paradoxes_

_Keith said thoughtfully, "If there are infinite universes, then all possible combinations must exist. Then, somewhere, _everything must be true_."_

_Fredric Brown, What Mad Universe (1950)___

He did not appreciate that look everybody was giving him, but he had begun to get used to it already.

He was late. Something about a broken subway line. Whatever. The point was that he had to take a cab from his apartment to the office and that little ride alone had sucked his lunch money. Lunch money. God, he felt like a moron sometimes.

As he stood in front of twenty dull businessmen, he was aware he looked the part too. He was carrying a worn-out briefcase (he made a mental note to get rid of that hideous thing), several huge yellow folders (papers all but falling from them, leaving a trail through the hallway he had come in) and about five rolled-up bluish floor plans of the building (complete with coffee stains, having accidentally tossed a Starbucks coffee on them —he hoped they didn't notice.)

In short, he looked like a walking Xerox machine. And, naturally, nobody stood up from the conference table to help him out. _Fine, he grumbled, dumping the workload on the table, _Just___ act like that didn't happen._

"Good morning, everybody," he began, trying admirably to pretend he hadn't looked like an idiot moments before, "Sorry about being late. Subway all screwed up, and you know how it is, the alarm doesn't ring, you run out of the house, come back because you left the iron on, run back out and the Subway pulls a fast one on you. Love New York, eh?"

The twenty businessmen said nothing; they just stared.

"Well!" he continued, rubbing his hands together, ignoring their incredulous looks, "Let's get started, shall we? I trust you've already familiarized yourself with some of the floor plans of the new business building, but for the sake of argument, does anybody have any questions?"

Silence. Then:

"_I_ have a question."

It came from the opposite side to the table. A red-haired woman was sitting there, legs crossed, with a skeptical look in her eyes. He hadn't noticed her, even though she was pretty obvious with that red suit in a sea of dull gray. Her green eyes seemed the coldest things he had seen in years. Impatiently drumming her fingers in the table and with an acid, no-nonsense tone, she said, "Who the hell are _you?"_

He took a deep breath and sighed the sigh of a man who's been asked the same question three thousand times already.

            Trying not to make a big deal of it, he replied, "I thought you knew."

            "Obviously," the redhead woman retorted with a disgusted tone, "We _don't. I thought we were to meet with Mr. Burnett, not some…" she shot him a look, "Part-time _secretary_."_

He tried hard to keep the plastic smile on his face. He'd been told she was a man-killer and a bitch, but he always tried to think the best of people. But she probably really was a bitch, so why bother? Besides, it had been a reasonable question. From what he'd learned so far, not lot of people knew what had happened.

"Well," he began, "My name is Dennis Anderson. And Mr. Burnett…" 

He paused for a second. Since he'd been asked the same thing over and over since he got there, he'd taken the liberty to add a little pause for the sake of drama. These people loved the drama.

"…is no longer with the company."

The redhead's expression was priceless.

PART ONE

The only creature to greet him when he got home was the dog, and it wasn't like it had the strength to stand up and lick its owner.

Dennis flipped on the light switch and the dog, lying on its belly next to the TV, gave out a happy but frail little groan. Kennedy was old, very old. Got him several years ago, when he was already near middle age. Mary had told him to take good care of him and he would, until the day one of them bit the dust. From the looks of it, Kennedy would beat him to it.

He headed to the kitchen. The sun had fallen already and his lunch had consisted of a bag of chips. He was starving.

He went to the fridge and opened the door. The sight of the soft white light on the single half opened can of mayonnaise depressed him. He closed it and opened the freezer. Ah, five minute chicken teriyaki. Oh, wonders of modern technology.

He stabbed the frozen entrée with a fork and tossed it inside the microwave. Meanwhile, he went to the living room and turned on the tv. 'Friends' was on. He hated 'Friends'. He considered it banal and empty.

Nevertheless, he didn't change the channel. He walked to the bedroom instead and changed to boxers and an old Hard Rock café t-shirt. When he heard the ding of the microwave, he picked up dinner and flopped down in the worn-out sofa in front of the tv. Mary had loved the sofa.

He started flipping channels. TV was so uninteresting nowadays. He settled with CNN, but it hadn't really sparked his interest. Nothing seemed to nowadays. He watched for the sake of watching something. For the sake of hearing something besides Kennedy's wheezing coughs. The apartment could get very quiet on the evenings and the quiet got on his nerves.

If Mary had been around, she would've goaded him into going outside and play pool with the guys. But she wasn't around. With nobody to encourage him, he didn't go out much. But he was aware he should drop by the bar one of these days. It was important to go out, Mary said, you don't want to be antisocial.

Mary was right, of course. He made a note to go out sometime this week. To not be the antisocial.

He wondered if he would have time. David Xanatos was reputed to have a huge workload. Maybe he should go out tonight. He was obviously bored. It would be a matter of jumping in the shower, dress up nice, take a cab and go to the bar. The guys would be there. It would be fun.

But he knew he wasn't going to do it. Mary wasn't around anymore. He won't do it.

So he just sat there, watching tv, channel surfing for the sake of doing sometime. Kennedy shifted and moved a lot in his corner. Could dogs have nightmares?

Mary would think so. She always had all sorts of interesting theories that would make him really think. If he asked her if dogs had nightmares, she would say, why not? I bet even plants could have nightmares.

He wasn't sure if plants had nightmares, but he wouldn't be surprised if dogs indeed had them. Dogs were very smart. They were perfectly capable of having nightmares. Why not?

He turned off the TV. He was tired of watching TV and thinking about dogs. He wouldn't know what a nightmare was either. He'd never had one. And he'd never dreamed either. Maybe he did, but never in his thirty-two years had he been capable of remembering what he dreamt at night. He was beginning to suspect that was because his life was very plain.

_Except that time…_ a little voice whispered _…that time, when their meeting was thick with birds…_

Yes, that dream. But that had been different. A long story he didn't want to think about, because it was so complicated.

Everything he had was plain, and he had to admit, a little boring. The apartment had a few couches and an old sofa, the kitchen was barely used and the single bedroom had a bed, a closet and a night table. Somebody once called it Spartan. He didn't think it was Spartan, just practical. He didn't have any real hobbies. But he had a pet. Kennedy was a hobby, right?

Mary would've laughed and said, we ought to give you a hobby, Dennis, you're dull as dirt. But he had had hobbies with her. Mary made everything look so interesting. Now everything was just plain empty.

He grabbed the remote and started surfing the channels. There was nothing on, nothing really interesting. He should probably go to bed. It was around half past nine, but it wasn't like his evenings were fun. He was bored. And he was tired.

But he wouldn't be able to sleep. Two things were constants in his life: lack of dreams and lack of sleep. He was an insomniac. It had been years since he'd had a good night's sleep. He couldn't remember the last time he went to bed and stayed there for eight straight hours. 

Mary told him there were pills. He hated pills. It would mean he'd have to take pills everyday, because he hardly got any sleep. A pill to sleep for the rest of his life. It was unnatural. Well, no more unnatural than not sleeping, he guessed. But he'd heard those pills did all sorts of things to people. He'd rather doze off in the office than have a renal failure or something.

Maybe he was overreacting, just like Mary said. But still. Anyway, what's so important about dreaming? He certainly wasn't interested in it. For all he knew, he could be plagued with nightmares for the rest of his life.

Not sleeping didn't allow him to have nightmares, but neither did it allow him to dream. Maybe he was missing a great thing, but all that really mattered to him was to be safe. Even if he had to give up rose-colored dreams.

He thought it was a fair exchange, even though he recalled Mary saying that it was not.

_Mary…_

He shook his head and tried to forget about it. Not forget her, no, never, but forget that she was gone. He hoped to forget about it and every once in a while, he would. Then he would expect Mary to walk in, anytime now, anytime…

"Jeez, Dennis, get a life…" he muttered to himself.

Done with his quick TV dinner, he stayed on the couch and turned on the VCR. He had a big collection of movies for nights just like this one. The problem was that he knew them all by heart.

_I hate this,_ he thought as he stared blankly at the carpet, _I hate this, I hate this, I hate this…_

He closed his eyes and leaned back on the sofa. Sleep would elude him as usual, but it didn't matter. He compensated with thinking about another time when his heart was pristine and he didn't have a care in the world. A time when Mary was here and he didn't work for Xanatos Enterprises.

*                      *                           *

He landed the job by a miracle of God.

He had never worked for Xanatos Enterprises. Never. He hadn't been an employee of any of the branches, any of the banks. Xanatos Enterprises was just a distant name, something he'd heard of, like Microsoft or Johnson and Johnson. No real importance.

But once upon a time, the man named Dennis Anderson needed a job and he started sending resumes around. And for whatever godforsaken reasons, his folder ended up in David Xanatos' desk. He didn't know how. He didn't know when. He remembered one time when he had just grabbed a rolodex and started sending letters… he hadn't even read the addresses… 

He just received a letter kindly asking him to show up for an interview. Next thing he knew, he found himself sitting in a waiting room with at least twelve other applicants —all smarter-looking than him— drumming his fingers on a briefcase, wondering how he had ever gotten into this mess.

He was sure he would never get it. He didn't look the part, for one thing. He was brown-eyed, and in need of a new haircut to do something with his likewise brown and somewhat unruly hair. He thought he looked nice when he left, but now that he compared himself with the others, his suit seemed to scream that it had been bought on sale at Macy's for some cousin's wedding years ago.

The other men looked like they had blown a thousand dollars on their credit cards. Clothing to them was an investment for getting a job. Clothing for Dennis was something that took up space in his closet. It wasn't that he looked bad. For any other thing, he would've been perfect. But the other guys were dressed like they were meeting the President of the United States.

It was a waste of time. He knew it when the secretary, a pretty blonde by the name of Tiffany, walked in and said that Mr. Xanatos was very sorry, that something came up and he couldn't interview anybody right now. Would you please leave your resume? We'll call _you._

The other twelve men grumbled to themselves in confusion and started to leave. Tiffany held Dennis back, the thirteenth applicant, and when everybody else was out of sight, she said, "Congratulations, Mr. Anderson. You start on Monday."

            "How is that even _possible_?" he cried, "He didn't even interview me! All the other guys—"

            "Aren't as qualified as you." Tiffany finished.

            "Well, I'm not so sure about that…" he chuckled uncomfortable.

            Tiffany only gave him a little giggle. "Smart and modest! Such a nice change of pace! We'd love to have you onboard. Maybe he'll even give you a permanent position later on."

            "Permanent?" he blinked, "You mean its temporary?"

            "Just until Mr. Burnett gets back from his vacation…then you'll be demoted…I know it's hard, but that's the plan…"

            "Better demoted than jobless, really…"

            "I'm sure Mr. Burnett will figure out what to do with you when he returns." she sighed, "If he ever comes back at all." She lowered her voice and whispered, "…He's very ill, you know… they're not sure he'll make it… " She sighed again and clutched the folders in her arms, "It's so sad, what's happened to him. It's gotta be a blow…"

            "To Mr. Burnett?"

            "And Mr. Xanatos…" Tiffany added, "Why, with the death of his wife, he hardly comes out of the castle anymore…oh, that's right. Mr. Burnett has another office inside the castle…" She giddily added, "You must be so excited! You're gonna be able to go up and down whenever you feel like it! They tell me it's beautiful!"

            "The castle… yeah, I think I read a few things but… I'll _work there?"_

            "Yeah!" Tiffany seemed more excited over the whole enterprise than Dennis himself, "I've never been there —not enough clearance— but I imagine you'll be stuck there most of the time. Be sure to tell me all about it, though!"

Dennis had no idea what to say or do. So he just rode it out with Tiffany, who hurried to lead him down a hallway and into a conference room where another man waited for them. 

This Mr. Stevenson, who turned out to be a lawyer, seemed to be in a hurry, practically barking his orders. In fact, everything seen off base somehow, everybody wanted to get this over as soon as possible. He practically slammed the forty page contract in front of Dennis and ordered him —_ordered_ him— to sign in the dotted line.

"Come on, Mr. Anderson," Tiffany encouraged, "Just sign and we'll be all set."

Dennis's gaze jumped from person to person, feeling that something was amiss here. Then it hit him: he didn't know what he was hired _for_. Feeling a bit stupid for overlooking such an important question, he asked, "Uh…before I sign anything…what am I supposed to _do_? Research? Testing? I mean… tell me a little more about your operations. Gene splicing? Cloning? I have plenty of experience in everything in genetics and such, and back in my old job, we had an excellent facility that did everything from mapping the human genome to cloning. What type of research was Mr. Burnett into? Shouldn't I meet his staff before I commit…?"

He trailed off when he noticed the stares coming from Tiffany and the lawyer. If he didn't know better, he could've _sworn they had no idea what he was talking about…And he couldn't help but say, "You __are aware I'm a medical researcher…__right?"_

            Stevenson started moaning like it was the end of the world. "Tiffany!" he yelled, almost shrieked, "A science major!?"

            "How the hell was I supposed to know!?" Tiffany snapped back, "You didn't even let me read all the files! I grabbed the first one from the pile, just like _you_ told me to!"

The two of them started bickering among themselves, completely ignoring Dennis, who was completely aghast at the turn of events. Needless to say, this was a very unusual way to hire somebody, though it looked like he wasn't about to be hired after all.

From what he could tell, Mr. Burnett was definitely _not a scientist. True, Dennis knew that he shouldn't have immediately assumed this was a research opportunity, but really, how was he supposed to know? The letter they sent didn't mention anything about the position being science-related, but he had assumed it was, because his resume spoke of nothing else but numerous medical projects he had been involved for the past ten years. _

Once the pair's bickering subsided, Mr. Stevenson stepped forward and, with a plastic smile that betrayed some anger, said, "Mr. Anderson… heh…it seemed we have made a little mistake. This is not a medical position. In fact, it's nowhere near science. This is more of a… management position. However, Xanatos Enterprises is a global corporation where science is amongst its interests and we'll be more than happy to forward your resume where it'll be put to better use than here…"

Dennis was more that skeptical. "Pardon my rudeness, but what the hell is going on? I came here expecting meet a doctor and I get a secretary and a lawyer that don't know the first thing about hiring people! Didn't you even _read_ the resumes?" He stared directly at Tiffany in the last sentence, and she flushed violently. "What kind of conglomerate _are you, blindly hiring the first person that comes across to… what was this position about anyway? You haven't even told me!"_

"To be my guard dog…" a fourth voice spoke, coming from a stranger who casually leaned against the conference room's doorway, with his arms crossed and looking seriously pissed at all of them. "They were planning to hire a guard dog behind my back. Naturally, they failed to include me in their little plot." He turned to Tiffany for a second. "I expected this sort of thing from John, but from _you, Tiff…?"_

Tiffany blanched considerably and her voice failed to express her profound apologies. The only thing that came out was a croaking that didn't even resembled an 'I'm sorry'.

Stevenson stuck to his guns. "It's the board, Mr. Xanatos. They unanimously agreed to give me the authorization to hire people on your behalf. It feels it's a necessary step to insure the stability of the corporation…you clearly can't handle the workload by yourself, Mr. Xanatos. It's just too much for one solitary CEO to handle alone…"

Dennis didn't recognize the stranger right away, but he should've, judging from the way he strolled inside the conference room as if he was the master of everything the light touched.

The words flashed through his mind: _David Xanatos…that guy is the__ David Xanatos…_

David Xanatos, the eccentric millionaire of New York, founder and CEO of the largest corporation of the planet. He was a dark man, around six feet tall, with a goatee and long brown hair bound in a ponytail. He wore black, and that concealed most of his imposing figure. Underneath those Armani clothes, he could tell the guy really did his workout. His brown hair tied in a ponytail could be the envy of most women and his handsome features would be the bane of most men. Dennis hadn't expected him to be _that_ tall. Corporate moguls were supposed to be skinny. Just ask Bill Gates.

All right, things had definitely taken a turn to the surreal. How the hell did a measly researcher ended up in the same room with such a man? And what was the position about? Nobody had bothered to explain yet.

_Something about a guard dog? Dennis considered, __What's__ that all about?_

"Oh, and how altruistic of you to hire somebody to help me." David Xanatos continued, his voice dripping of sarcasm. His face turned into a scowl that disfigured his otherwise handsome features. He was so angry he seemed to having a real problem controlling his urge to choke Stevenson to death, "You're pathetic, John. The board is a cage full of hyenas that can't wait to tear my company apart and keep healthy chunks to themselves. And you're helping them... doing their dirty work by shoving a spy up my ass to get better access into my life and my power." His tone turned piercing and deadly, "This situation cannot —_will not— be tolerated. Consider your self _fired_ this very instant."_

Stevenson closed his eyes for a moment. "You can't do that." He said quietly. "The board will put it up to vote and they will not allow it."

"Well, _fuck_ the board!" David Xanatos snapped, slamming his fists on the table. He didn't look like it, but he was pretty strong guy. The table creaked loudly. "I created them, and I can sure as hell break them apart! If Owen were here, this never would've happened!"

"But he _isn't_!" Stevenson snapped back, "David, he _isn't_! As long as he's gone, there will be a chasm in power that the board legally has to fill. Let's face it… Owen Burnett was the only thing standing between the board and absolute power." His tone turned a bit softer, "Three months, David… he's been gone for three months. You never gave us explanations. All you said was that he went on a 'sabbatical'…the board thinks that he actually left the company and you came up with the vacation excuse to buy time to search for a new vice-president… and that's the last thing they want. David…" his voice turned softer still, "…where _is Owen Burnett?"_

David Xanatos mumbled something none of them could make out. And then he added, "He'll come back. Just you wait. Then we'll have this mess all cleared up…"

Stevenson sighed. He'd reached this dead end one too many times. He shook his head and added, "I hope to God you're right. But if you don't want to pick a new vice-president, the least you can do is hire a new assistant… Honestly, I don't know how the hell Mr. Burnett managed to handle your personal business and the affairs of the company at the same time. This will be, essentially, splitting the functions —like normal businesses do in the rest of the world. We still need someone to provide help with the mundane details while Burnett is on his… vacation…" He spoke to Mr. Xanatos but his eyes were upon Dennis. He put a friendly hand on his shoulder and said, "And Mr. Anderson here seems to be interested in this position. Why not give him a chance?"

David Xanatos snorted loudly, as if his contempt of the whole idea wasn't obvious enough.

            "He's clean, David, trust me on this one." Stevenson explained, a little annoyed, "I made sure of that. He's a total stranger, no ties to the board… he's not a spy. I don't like the hyenas anymore than you do."

            The comment elicited a smile on the millionaire, though it was a bitter one. He sighed melodramatically and said, "The hell with it. I'll take him. I guess he'll do for the time being…as an assistant." He turned to Dennis, "Don't even _think_ about stock-options."

            "Tiffany, give him the contract." Stevenson ordered, and she quietly placed the papers in front of Dennis. Dennis, however, just sat there and stared at them, doing nothing. "Well?" the layer said, slightly impatient.

            "But I'm a science major…I'm not a businessman…! What am I supposed to do if I sign?" He said, wide-eyed at the whole ordeal.

            David Xanatos was the one to explain, albeit in a very cryptic way. "I say jump, you say how high."

            "What he means is odd jobs," Stevenson quickly amended, "You just give him a hand when he asks you to, alright?"

Dennis wanted to yell _No, it's not alright! But he cowered at the last second. He was having second, third, and fourth thoughts already. But the truth is, he needed a job. And it sounded easy enough._

"You should know," David Xanatos added for good measure, "All XanaCorp employees agree to a clause that if they ever quit for whatever reasons, you could be sued if you gave away any secrets. Your particular contract, however, could put you away for life if you're caught…" He smiled insidiously, "And then some. Xanatos Enterprises isn't just a company…it's a lifestyle. They'll be times you see and hear things that under no circumstances must leave the room. If you sign that paper, Dennis, your life will be never be the same."

            "Just like in pharmaceutical research?" Dennis mumbled, unaware of how naïve he sounded.

            "Yes," David Xanatos said in an exceeding patronizing tone Dennis didn't seem to catch, "Just like in research."

Well. Back in his old job, he'd been sworn to secrecy too. No problem there. This stunt shouldn't be too difficult. And who knows? Maybe he could talk David Xanatos into giving him his own research lab eventually. This was a job with _real_ room to advancement. With Xanatos, he could eventually be involved with all sorts of things only a scientist dreams of…

Eventually, of course. He was getting ahead of himself.

So it was that way that Dennis armed himself with courage, and filled with childlike hopes, he signed. Something inside him told him this could be the best thing that ever happened to him. And that he had to take risks if he wanted his life to stop being so monotonous, empty and boring. Mary would've been so proud.

Like so, Dennis Anderson hopped on board for the adventure of his lifetime.

*                   *                    *

"And I say good for you!" the old man chuckled as he moved his black queen one square forward, "Oh-uh, Dennis… checkmate!"

Dennis blinked out of his daydream and returned to his game of chess. He seized up his situation in the board and it appeared that he was losing for the third time that day. "Fine," he grumbled as he knocked over his white king, "You win. _Again."_

It was a perfectly fine sunny day in Central Park, and of all the people sitting in the numerous patio tables around, he was the only one that wasn't dressed in black, didn't had a long beard, didn't wear a little black hat and wasn't Jewish.

Rabbi Melquisedec wasn't pleased with his victory. "Oh, Dennis…you're no fun to beat. Look! Of you had simply moved your horse you could've taken my Queen. I tell you, my boy, you always give up too easy… But I'm very proud you took that job. You need to be more assertive, Dennis. Take the bull by his horns!"

"Oy!" another Rabbi near them spoke up, "He needs to get married, that's what he needs! When are you going to meet my Ester? She's a very fine young woman, I tell you!"

The rest of the Rabbi around them, always overhearing each other's conversations, chuckled loudly and more than one of them playfully scolded their fellow teacher for selling his daughter like a used car. "She's a human being, Kootz, not your 1989 Toyota!"

The whole crowd burst into laugher. Rabbi Kootz started bickering with the rest of them while Dennis and his fellow chess player resumed their conversation.

"He has a point, as misdirected as it is," old man Melquisedec said, "What sort of young man spends his time playing chess with a bunch of old Rabbis? You should be out in a date, eating pork and all that. What the rest of the teachers wouldn't give to have their children come play with us! You're the son they all wish they had."

            "Thanks… I think…" Dennis sheepishly replied, "You sure think high of me, don't you?"

            "Eh, you're all right for a Gentile…" the Rabbi added as he started to set all the chess pieces for another game. "Now, tell me more about this job."

            "There's not much to say." Dennis continued, "They got a little political war going on, but I'm not sure I understand and it doesn't have to do much with me so I'm keeping out of it… The worst part is when I announce myself as David Xanatos' assistant. They fall out of their chairs, they stare aghast or they insult me, like the red-haired madwoman I told you about. After they get over me, they wonder how a science major landed in the job."

            "It's certainly a very odd turn of events…" Rabbi Melquisedec questioned, staring at him with scientific curiosity.

            Dennis didn't know what to answer. He settled with shrugging. "I guess. Don't think I care much. I have a job with an awesome paycheck and that's enough."

            "That should never be enough, young Dennis." Melquisedec replied, "Never stop questioning yourself or your role in the grand design of things. I see big things for you. You are there for a _reason_. Things like that just don't happen everyday. Take this opportunity to look for your place in the universe…for that's the way of spiritual enlightenment."  

            "Yeah, well… I didn't exactly take this job for enlightenment."

            "You must search for enlightenment wherever you can," the old man smirked. "A life without problems is not worth living." 

            "Personally, I don't see anything wrong with a little peace and quiet." Dennis snorted, "I don't believe in complications."

            Melquisedec merely arched an eyebrow, "Is that why you're here with us and not out there having fun?"

            Dennis shrugged awkwardly, "You guys are fun."

            "No, we're not. We're dull as dirt and you know it." The rabbi smirked, "But don't worry…" he said as he began to reorganize the chess pieces to start another game, "I'm sure you'll shake it off."

            "Shake what off?"

            "Why," the old man replied, giving Dennis a mildly amused look, "Your fear of life, of course. How long has it been, Dennis? How long has it been since you went out with a girl since Mary died?"

Dennis, who had been particularly cheerful that morning, immediately darkened. Melquisedec had that look on his face, the look of someone about to give him an old speech for the one thousandth time.

He said nothing; he just remained eerily quiet. He took his eyes off the old man and stared down at the chessboard. The chess pieces were neatly in place and he was supposed to make the first move. He was always the whites.

            "It's…been a while." he mumbled, trying to sound off-handed but failing.

            "That's not healthy, Dennis." Melquisedec sighed, as if he was trying to talk some sense into an unreasonable person. In a way, he was. "When are you gonna let go?"

            Dennis picked up a chess piece and idly stared at it in his hand. Then he placed it back in the board and moved it a square. "Someday, I guess. These things…these things always take time."

            "Grief is not a substitute for life, my young friend. All your grieving won't bring her back."

            "I know…" Dennis mumbled tiredly, "But grief makes us feel alive, and sometimes, that's good enough."

            "That's never good enough," the rabbi continued, "Stop compromising your existence anymore, Dennis. You don't know what you're missing."

Dennis said nothing. He hated getting into pointless arguments with Melquisedec, and arguments about Mary were always pointless. He often wondered if the old man was right, but then he thought he couldn't possibly change now.

            "This is pointless rhetoric, old man, we never seem to agree on this one."

            "That's only because you refuse to admit you're wrong and I'm right. We'll never get anywhere as long as you keep this up."

            Dennis laughed, he _had_ to laugh, "Nope, I guess we won't."

PART TWO

She had stared at the folder for several minutes before she finally blinked. She read the report, saw the pictures, saw the evidence. But she still didn't know what to make of it.

"Elisa…" Matt Bluestone, loyal and ever-trusting Matt Bluestone, told her, "…we don't have to take the case if you don't want to…"

She looked up at him, then at her reflection in an old family photo adorning her desk. God, she looked awful. She had spent the last few weeks closing a big drug bust case, and it took a lot out off her. But now things got back to normal. Back to life with the gargoyles, to Demona destroying humanity, to…

Well, as normal as it's gonna get, anyway. 

_Oh, no Maza, we've been through this before, she thought, _you've already settled the matter…__

But still. Three months, Elisa Maza. Only three months since everything was shot to hell.

_No, Maza, snap out of it. She told herself, still sitting in the desk with Matt Bluestone hovering over her. _That's all in the past…it simply isn't going to happen…__

"I'm gonna get some coffee…" she said, "I'll be right back."

She stood up from the chair and thought of him. Matt's worried eyes were on her, but she thought only of him. Went to the vending machines, inserted a couple of quarters, got a hot coffee and still thought of him.

_Maza, you got a weird definition of normal. __Normal__ used to be life without gargoyles. Then normal became life with the gargoyles. It was bewildering, true, but you got used to it. You made it your own. When you found you couldn't change it, you learn to love it. When you finally could change it, you loved it so much that you couldn't. And now that definition of normal, the normal that you created, that became such an intimate part of yourself, inside and outside, totally surrounding you… is gone. And you have to create a new normality and learn to love it all over again. And it isn't fair. It. Isn't. Fair._

"Maza, snap out of it…" she muttered to herself as she walked down the halls with her hot coffee, back to Matt and the case file. She told herself that all the time. And it seemed to work.

There had been a time when she thought about it all the time. All the time. It was a mantra that got her through the first couple of days. After the initial shock wore off, she still said it, but with less frequency. And slowly, very slowly, she had begun to cope.

She thought she would never cope. The other time it wasn't so bad. It had struck her right in the heart, but it hadn't been so bad, all things considered. But the other time it had been Derek. And Derek was still alive. So it was easy to cope.

Now, for some reason, it had been most difficult. She didn't know why. She just didn't know why.

            She returned to her desk. Matt was still there. "Well?"

            "We'll take it." Elisa told him and didn't offer any explanations.

            Matt groaned inwardly as if he knew precisely what he was getting into. "Elisa, how are we going to deal with him if you clearly hate the guy? You're only going to hurt yourself. Have you read the report? We're not going there to _bust him, we're there to _help_ him. And I know that helping him is the _last_ thing you have in mind."_

Her eyes drifted back to the police report. Victim: Celine Brault, found dead in her home by her husband, who had come home from a trip. The corpse had been there for three days before he found her. The place had been turned upside down but nothing had been stolen. Except for those important files concerning her employer, that is. Which happened to be Xanatos Enterprises.

"She was his security manager. Handled everything from castle security to the Commando Squad. We have reasons to believe its some sort of corporate espionage." Matt explained, "Which begs the question… are you going to help that man after all that's happened between you two?"

Ah. So he finally asked it. Somebody had to ask it. It was bound to happen, considering the nature of the case and the police officers involved. And their previous history together. And what a history.

            "We have to," Elisa said dryly. "It's our oath. Protect and serve."

            Matt sighed. There would be no reaching her this day.

It was what Goliath would want, she figured. He always thought the best of people, no matter how big a bastard they were. No matter how arrogant, how devious, how evil they were. Because that's how Goliath was. And that's what got him killed that night.

_You were always so damn stubborn. Always thinking the best of people. What made you think he was going to change? So he had a kid. It didn't do a damn thing, trust me._

_You should see how he treats me, Goliath. Like usual. Like when he destroyed my brother. Men like that don't change. What the hell were you thinking? You'd help anyone, wouldn't you, Goliath? Because it was your credo. Gargoyles Protect._

_Do they have to protect criminals too, Goliath? I wish I had been there, but the petulant bastard made the whole city fall asleep. The guys told me all about it afterwards. Dammit, why help one devil destroy another?_

_Dammit, Goliath, why did you have to be a hero?_

_At the risk of sounding like Demona, Xanatos got what he deserved. Let's see him deal with life now that his personal genie is gone. It's the law of karma, Goliath. You don't mess with karma. He was supposed to get what he deserved and you butted in to help him. And he dragged you with him._

_We've been cheated out of our destiny, Goliath. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. I was supposed to feel what I feel slowly, but now everything has been thrust forwards, and now I feel things I wasn't supposed to feel yet._

_I don't understand, Goliath. But I know something is messed up. Somebody messed up, Goliath. It wasn't supposed to happen. Not. Like. This._

She went home when the shift was over to get some sleep and still thought of him. She took of her jacket and shoes, tossed herself in the bed and still thought of him.

It was insane to take the case, she knew that much, but refused to let it go. Because no matter what Goliath thought, Xanatos was still dirty. His kind never changed, not really. So she owed it to herself to let everybody know what a huge mistake Goliath did. And last, but not least, make Xanatos pay for rendering such an important sacrifice utterly useless.

Because it wasn't fair. It. Wasn't. Fair.

*                       *                           *

She was quite a mess.

The coroner had come in and removed the body some time ago, but the walls and furniture of the living room were still smeared with blood. Cops were swarming all over the place, with their white gloves and cameras, taking pictures and looking for fingerprints. It was hard to move around; the apartment was full of puddles of blood.

It was a pretty brutal murder for a simple corporate espionage job. Which led Matt Bluestone to think the killer liked it. Maybe he did it for half-price, because murdering was a joy into itself.

            Elisa agreed with him, "Yeah, he doesn't look like the most mentally stable villain out there. Celine died to a massive head trauma, as a result of the perp bashing her brains in. Completely unnecessary, if he was only looking for XanaCorp files."

            "Maybe he knew her?" Matt offered, "Maybe there was some passion behind all this…you said it yourself. Her murder was unnecessary. So, were there any witnesses?"

            "Only the building's security cameras," Elisa replied, "It definitely warrants a look-see, don't you think?"

He still thought taking the case was inviting danger. After all that happened between Elisa and Xanatos, the last thing they needed was another close encounter. _God, Elisa…_he thought, …_why__ are you putting yourself through this?_

But he knew why. And he felt powerless to stop her. The clan had only asked him to look out after her. "Just step in if things get too intense…" Brooklyn had told him. "Watch her not to pull a Demona on us…"

Because everybody knew she was out for revenge. It was as obvious as a blue sky in a sunny day. Oh, she denied it. But they knew better. Matt definitely knew better. Still, he knew how she felt. It was the same thing everybody felt.

_Jesus, Goliath, why did you have to be a hero?_

They all moved to the security office in the first floor, where the tapes were. This was a six story apartment building in the middle of Manhattan, elegant, good looking, definitely not cheap, fit for Celine Brault's paycheck. After all, security manager always pays big, and in a corporation like XanaCorp, the figure must've been outstanding.

The security was top-notch in the place, so it was easy to reconvene at the security office, get a few tapes and study them. The building was full of cameras, and the security office had around ten monitors alone, overlooking all the important parts of the edifice. It was almost too easy.

So easy, that it had been a synch to find Celine the night she died and see that she had returned home in the arms of a man that was definitely not her husband. "The whole event was recorded for posterity," a kind security guard told the detective, "I bet with this amount of evidence, you'll get the guy in no time flat."

The guard was right. Everything was on tape, including Celine's entrance with the stranger. The camera at the lobby had been excellently placed. "I guess you were right, Elisa." Matt told her, "Her husband was away in California and he has around fifty people to prove it. He came home from the trip and found her dead. Guess this means the perp and the victim were lovers."

"No, I don't think that's it." Elisa replied, "Because why would he take the files? And look—" she pointed at another monitor screen, "Doesn't she look a little tipsy to you?"

The other monitor showed the insides of the elevator. Celine and the man were making out, but it was clear she was having coordination problems and that she was giggling even though there was no sound.

            "I think he picked her up." Elisa concluded, "You know how it is. Woman goes to a bar, nice guy approaches her and buys her a drink, next thing she knows she wakes up in the morning and the stranger is taking a shower in her home."

            "Well, can't say she didn't have it coming. If she was married, why go look for action in a bar?"

            "Xanatos employees are no paragons of morality," Elisa replied, "And hey, this is New York. God knows more twisted things have happened."

            Matt nodded and crossed his arms. "All right, how's this theory sound? Someone hires the perp to do a little espionage on XanaCorp, something relating security. He follows the security manager a few days and finds his opportunity in a bar. Gets her drunk, talks her into going home with him, has a little perverted fun. Then he kills her and runs off with the files."

            "Makes sense." Elisa admitted, "But I can't help but feel something's missing."

            "What is?"

            "I don't know…" she mumbled, "…wait, yes I do… it's his professionalism. Or lack thereof. He was sloppy, Matt. Hired assassins know better than to expose themselves in a building chock full of cameras. Much less make such a mess of their victims. He's a second-rate killer that looks like he was bought on sale. Xanatos' enemies can surely afford better hired guns."

            "Maybe it's a distraction. They wanted to make it look like a casual murder."

            "No. It's still sloppy. If they wanted it casual, they wouldn't have trashed the place. Or at the every least, they could've run off with jewels or a TV."  
            "Yeah, I guess you're right…" Matt retorted, "Then what does this mean?"

            "I dunno… right now, your theory makes more sense than mine. I think we should follow on that and pay Xanatos a visit."

            But Matt snorted in reply. "Man, now I wish I never brought it up…"

            "What?" Elisa asked, slightly peeved.

            "I just want you to remember we're there to help the man, not to nail his ass. And frankly, I think you took this case to do the opposite."

            "It's been three months, Matt…I think I've gotten over it."

            "Don't kid with me. You haven't gotten over Derek, and that's been going on for almost a year. I still think taking this case was a lousy idea."

            "Look, I'm a police officer first. Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

            "But Elisa—"

            "_Matt!" she exclaimed annoyed to shut him up. Then she laughed falsely and calmed down. "Matt…just help me do my job. I'll be fine. I'll be just fine."_

Matt sighed heavily and kept quiet. It was just like her to never talk about it. She had ignored him again and focused completely on the monitors in front of her, determined to do her job. What job it was, Matt wasn't sure.

She took the controls and started forwarding the tape until she found what she was looking for. It was a clear shot of the killer, an almost perfect shot. He was a man in his mid-thirties, a smiling man, and he looked handsome, even charming. But there was a dark streak in his smile, something in his eyes in the way he was staring at Celine Brault in that still picture.

Maybe what surprised Matt the most was that he was clean cut. Nice clothes and shoes. Nice hair. Certainly not a random punk, something he expected considering the nature of Celine's death.

            "Matt… meet our perp." Elisa said as she printed the photo and handled it to him, "We should probably run this photo through our database. See what comes up."

            "Sounds like a plan." Matt muttered as he stared at the charming man's photo. _Mister…I hope you know what you've gotten yourself into…_

But the person in the photo merely smiled back.

*                     *                        *

The thing that really saddened Brooklyn was that she didn't announce it to them herself. Matt had been the one to inform the clan of the new case and Elisa, no doubt sure that that was the first thing Matt did when they woke up, hadn't even showed up to face them.

She hadn't come to visit them for a few nights, and Brooklyn, leader of the Manhattan clan, didn't know what to do about it. He knew he had to talk to her, but he had put if off because of… what? Fear?

_So many things have happened…_ he thought quietly, _So many things…_

Three months had passed since the battle, and so many things in between, that Brooklyn often wondered what was going on. So many things that he dared not dwell on them, not tonight of all nights, because the whole event still ached and if he started thinking about them, he would never stop. And he needed to be clear-headed tonight, not… and not be otherwise.

Because Brooklyn had decided to take it upon himself to visit Elisa Maza and see what was going on, even though he had tried to avoid it for some time now. But he didn't have any choice now, did he?

He split the clan into groups and they took off on patrol. All of them wanted to go as a group and get Elisa, but Brooklyn figured this was a job for him and him alone. Elisa was part of the clan after all, and it was the leader's job to deal with these situations. Hudson had given him his approval too. "Yer right, lad. But if ye need me, you know where I be."

The night was unusually cool this week. Something about a cold front coming. They said it was going to rain soon. Probably the end of the week. 

He jumped off the clock tower's balcony and the air caught him. The air itself guided him to Elisa's apartment, not very far from the police station. He landed on her balcony and knocked on her glass. Peeking inside, he noticed that Elisa poked her head out of the kitchen, with a frying pan on her hands and an apron tied around her waist. She disappeared back inside and came back without them, then opened the glass door.

            "Brooklyn!" she said, a bit surprised, "I was planning on meeting you guys later on. Is anything wrong?"

            "Actually, no." he said, making his way inside. He didn't know how to go about this. How would Goliath do this? He would always have some insightful and wise thing to say. But Brooklyn was Brooklyn and he was going to have to improvise. "I just feel that we need to have a little talk."

            Elisa grunted. She knew where this was going. Still, she played it casual. "So Matt told you about our new case…" she said, "Don't worry , Brooklyn. I'll be just fine. It's just a job."

            The sentence reeked of bullshit and they both knew it. So Brooklyn got right to the point, "Elisa, it isn't necessary. It wasn't even his fault."

            Elisa Maza hid a sigh. "I know. And I understand. But it still doesn't make it right."

            "I know what you'll do, Elisa. We gargoyles are a bunch of hotheads that develop  
grudges quickly —ones that are hard to drop. Me and Demona, Lex and the Pack, Broadway and the guns… we've all had our shares of pet peeves that we haven't worked out too well. But those bad experiences have also taught us how dangerous irrational grudges are. And how to spot them on other persons. And Elisa… we're worried about you."

            "I'm fine," she said stubbornly, "I don't know what you're talking about."

            "I bet you do." Brooklyn replied, "And I know how dangerous yours is, 'cuz not only is he the richest man in the world, he's also done you a lot more harm than Demona ever did to me… but Elisa… this time, _it's not his fault."_

            Elisa crossed her arms and mumbled, "I know that, Brooklyn. But that's not what pisses me off…" She tried to find the right words, the exact phrasing so that Brooklyn could understand. "_It's just that he's wasting it!" she finally snapped. "Goliath only helped him because he hoped for the best of him, but look at him! He's wasting his sacrifice! He never stopped acting like the self-righteous bastard he is! Goliath wasted his life on an ungrateful jerk! Didn't you seem him at the funeral!?" Elisa was shrieking, "He didn't even _cry_!"_

Brooklyn didn't know what to say. Goliath would know how to respond, but he was Brooklyn. Plain old Brooklyn. Sure, his command had worked well when the gang was on Avalon, but that was different. He wasn't ready for _this_. He had a task and an objective there: to keep the clan safe.

Now it was different. Now he was discovering another facet of leadership: that of counselor. And he honestly didn't know what to say.

It didn't help that he knew even less about Xanatos' psychology. He knew people had different reactions to tragedy and he admitted his reaction wasn't much of a reaction at all but… 

            "That we don't know _how_ he reacted doesn't mean he didn't react at all." Brooklyn replied. "The guy _did have it hard. But you know Xanatos. He's never going to show weakness, not if he can't help it."_

            "He's not going to show what he doesn't have, Brooklyn." Elisa replied dryly, her face as cold as stone. "That's the great injustice here. A good man in exchange for a worthless one. Can't you see the illogical equation?"

Of course, she thought Xanatos was the Prince of Darkness to begin with. Oh, he remembered the funeral. And it was what he saw in the funeral what made Brooklyn cut the man some slack. His father was there, true, but he looked afraid of even touching his son. He was alone. Completely and totally alone. Not even Owen was around. Owen, who might as well be dead…

            "He's only human, Elisa. And so are you. Everybody has a different way to act. I understand your pain, but I also understand his…"

            "If he has any…" she muttered sarcastically.

            "You're letting your own pain blind you and you're unable to see those of others. Clear your head a little and I'm sure you'll agree that going after him won't help at all."

            She chuckled softly and said, "Oh, Brooklyn… you're just a big softy, just like Goliath… In a way, I understand why Demona thinks humans will never accept you guys… but you and the clan, you always thought otherwise. And I always admired you so much for it!" She laughed a little, just a little, "But this compassion… it's only going to get you killed. You've been right about a lot of things, Brooklyn… but this time you're wrong."

Suddenly, Brooklyn ran out of argument, like you might run out of ink in a pen. Part of the problem was that he didn't want to deal with this at the moment. Not yet.

The only thing he could bring himself to say was, "I can't make you drop the case. All I can ask you is to keep a cool head and not freak out. It'll just bounce right back at you."

            "I know, Brooklyn…but thank you for warning me." she sighed, giving him a frail little smile. She went ahead and gave him a full bear hug, which he gladly returned. "Thanks for being my friends, you and the clan. You don't know how much you've helped me."

            "But you've helped us first, Elisa. Don't worry too much about this. We'll always be by your side."

Satisfied with the end of the conversation, Brooklyn excused himself and took off. He thought that at least he had reached some sort of understanding, some progress. Feeble as he knew it had been.

But had he stayed a couple of seconds, he would've heard her say, "But you're wrong, Brook… totally, totally wrong…"

PART THREE

His lack of sleep had become something of an asset for him in his new job. 

The first week alone he stayed in the office until ungodly hours doing all sorts of piled-up paperwork. Folders had just been stacking for a couple of month. It was up to him to sort it all out, the mail, the boxes, the folders, the requisitions. But because he didn't sleep a lot, he had time to do it. He was halfway through.

Tiffany thought it was 'amazing'. "Wow. You could give Mr. Burnett a run for his money. He was amazing. You're not as good as him, but you're ok… Mr. Burnett was really hard to beat."

Tiffany was his new secretary and the same one in the incident with the lawyer. It felt weird. He'd never had a personal secretary before. It was so… important. Cute, but a bit on the airhead side, Tiffany seemed a fine secretary. But what did he know? He'd never had one.

If Tiffany had a flaw it was her talk of Mr. Burnett. Burnett this, Burnett that. She had subtly muttered something about a dress code and how sharp Mr. Burnett looked everyday and what a vertical, serious, practical man he was, and how he would never, ever show up at the office with a briefcase that was falling apart and without a proper jacket, because he always wore that stylish, somber navy suit, because he was a respected man, very much admired by everyone, and he projected such an image of properness and authority…

Dennis got the hint. He opened up his wallet, went shopping, and started wearing full suits everyday. But he still had that mad scientist look, even if it was very subtle. Nonetheless, he did his best to adjust to Tiffany's ideal picture of upper management, until it got on his nerves and reached his wits' end.

            "Don't move that painting!" she had told him on one occasion, "He doesn't like it when people move his stuff."

            It had finally ticked him off. "That's all fine and well…" Dennis had sternly said, "But for the time being, this is _my office. And I think this painting should go on __that wall."_

            Tiffany looked crestfallen. "Well…I guess you're right…" 

He immediately regretted snapping at her, then decided to leave the painting right where it was. She was embarrassed, but he hadn't meant to embarrass her. She was nice. She was just getting on his nerves.

Everybody was getting on his nerves. Everybody looked positively shocked when they learned he was David Xanatos' new personal assistant. Jesus, people huddled together around the water cooler and pointed at him when he passed by. It was just plain weird.

The first two weeks he spent in the office were under a pile of paperwork. But with Tiffany's help, he sorted through it. Other people, who simply had too many other responsibilities to fully devote to the task, had halfway done most of the things. With no discernible social life to distract him, Dennis had plenty of time.

He had to admit that for being so threatening a lifestyle, his job was dreadfully boring. One routine replaced for another. Instead of wasting his time counting cracks in the ceiling, he was staring at numbers, sealing envelopes and coordinating meetings. Add that to the fact that business wasn't his field; that he was supposed to be a scientist, not a secretary, it was easy to see how utterly dreadful this all seemed.

Tiffany, the good hearted but somewhat naïve secretary, was valuable help. Both of them ran around the building for the first couple of weeks until he got his bearings. Slowly but surely, the paperwork subsided. They mostly focused on the piled-up mail. It looked like nobody had bothered to sort it for _at least_ three months.

_Three months,_ he thought, _it's like…it's like they just dropped what they were doing and completely forgot about this._

It was more than that. He was smart enough to figure out that the office without his predecessor was an administrative chaos. Like it often happens in the absence of a leader, nobody knew what to do and they looked at Tiffany, and in a lesser degree Dennis, for some sort of guidance.

He couldn't help it but Tiffany reminded him of Mary. Both were blonde and happy, though Mary wore her hair straight and Tiffany had it tightly curled. And Mary radiated well-being, while Tiffany was just… perky. They weren't too alike, come to think of it. Maybe he only compared her to Mary because all women reminded him of Mary.

From what he managed to pick up, the company was in trouble. Not serious trouble, but there was nobody in charge and everything was falling apart. That explained why the lawyer and the board had 'shoved' Dennis into the task. He got the feeling this Mr. Burnett person was the glue that kept the whole company together. Jeez. How could one person be so important?

            Anyway, Tiffany couldn't stop talking about him. Mr. Burnett did this, did that, did even more of that… "He looked after Mr. Xanatos so well. He was always near him." Tiffany commiserated, "He could negotiate a merger or serve his coffee just the same."

            "Serve his coffee?" Dennis retorted, "Why would a vice-president serve coffee to the president? It's very… strange."

            "Well, let me put it this way… Mr. Burnett had very unique tasks. He had his own way, you see. He kept it all together. There's no other way to explain it. He kept it all together."

_Who's keeping it together now?_ he wanted to ask, but he thought it a rude question.

As for Mr. Xanatos, well, he was just as elusive and mysterious as his missing assistant. One week passed, then another and then another and he began to wonder. Short, impersonal messages arrived by email and an occasional phone call or two to order him to do this or that.

He had never been asked to occupy the office he was supposed to have inside the castle and Dennis never wanted to inquire. All the things he had to do were done from the offices of the building, not the castle. Never the castle. The castle itself became as elusive as Mr. Xanatos and Mr. Burnett. They were ghost figures all talked about but never saw or heard, but they were always there. Always far away.

"Well," Tiffany began, "I guess he wants to handle any real business personally. Part of the problem why we hired you, see. It's too much for one man." she sighed heavily, "But I guess he's too stubborn. Poor guy."

Why did she reduce such a powerful man to a 'poor guy' was never clear to him until he heard the whole story in Tiffany's rambles in dark and stormy nights surrounded by paper.

            "Well, what do you want to know?" she asked.

            "Whatever you can tell me." He replied.

            She arched an elegant eyebrow and said, "We don't like a lot of questions around here, Dennis. Part of the contract we all signed and you signed too."

            "Then tell me what everybody knows. Honestly, I'm at a loss here. I really don't want to say the wrong thing in front of Mr. Xanatos."

            She stared at him questioningly, but then gave in. "She was so stylish, his wife… you've seen all the glamour magazines, she was a super-star. It's kinda sad. A mommy and a baby to go out like that. Then Mr. Burnett gets ill and all. It's awful."

            "What exactly happened to them?" Dennis questioned, truly curious, "I mean, I heard the news and read the newspapers, but nobody seems to know what happened that night. Which is explainable…"

            "Yeah…" Tiffany sighed to herself, "The Big Sleep…"

The Big Sleep. Everybody knew about The Big Sleep. A time when the whole city of New York fell asleep for a whole night, creating a disaster not seen since… since everybody lost two nights' memories a few months before. 

That one was called The Lost Nights. The most rational explanation he heard of them came from a madwoman who claimed all inhabitants of the city that watched tv that day had turned to stone.

            "New York has always been an odd place, but for the last two years, it's been getting ridiculous. Remember the Lost Nights?" He said, adrift in the memory.

            "Yeah…" Tiffany sighed, her pretty face darkening for a moment. "My mother…" she shook her head, "…haven't seen her since."

            He felt mortified for bring the subject up. "Sorry…I didn't know…"

            "It's ok. I'm over it." Tiffany retorted, "We may never know what happened that night. Something like that happened to Mr. Xanatos… he never gave a formal explanation, but the theory in the office was that they died in the Big Sleep…"

            "That makes sense." Dennis admitted, "Lots of people died that night. Doctors fell asleep while operating patients, cars exploded, subways went off track and a couple of planes crashed. The last I heard, they thought it had been caused by some sort of mass hypnosis."

            "That's what they said of the Lost Nights…" Tiff muttered, "Honestly? I don't believe it. I think those winged monsters were the cause. It's more believable than that government excuse…"

Lost Nights, Big Sleep, and of course, the gargoyles. How could he possibly forget about the gargoyles?

According to the urban legend, winged monsters regularly came out and night and terrorized the populace. Everybody had a cousin or a co-worker or a brother-in-law that had a phantom encounter with those things. Of course, Dennis thought that was as true as alligators in the sewers and UFOs in the sky.

            "You don't actually believe those stories, do you?" Dennis snorted delighted, "Stone coming to life to terrorize us mortals…"

            Tiffany was a bit put-off, "Just so you know, most legends are based on real facts! So it could be real. Part of it may be exaggerations, but what if they aren't? Scientists like you must know behind myths are science facts."

            "I still don't buy it. Speaking like a scientist, I find it difficult to believe a species like that can go on undiscovered by science. If creatures like that existed, it would revolutionize everything we think we know about biology, theology, humanity's place in the cosmos. Can you imagine having a thousand years of science —and religion and philosophy for that matter— debunked in a blink of an eye? Not only is it impossible, it's also unfair. Fate's cruel joke on mankind. 'Oh, you're not kings of the planet after all. Sorry to get your hopes up'. It's completely unfair."

            "Unfair, but not necessarily untrue. Truth hurts, always has, always will."

            "I bet." Dennis sighed, "Science _does_ thrive on debunking old theories for new ones…but for me, it would be simply too much." He chuckled to himself and added, "First gargoyles, then Lost Night, then Big Sleeps… what's next? Aliens? King Arthur? Fairies?"

            Tiffany gave him an exasperated grunt. "Oh, don't you have imagination, Dennis? Where's your sense of wonder? Of magic? I bet you didn't believe in Santa Claus when you were a kid either…"

            "Am I supposed to believe a big fat guy breaks into people's homes every December 24 for the last, what, five hundred years? Worse, that he brings gifts to little children? If you ask me, that guy has pedophilic tendencies…"

            She gasped insulted and gave him a small whack in an arm with a yellow folder she was handling. "You, sir, have absolutely no sense of fun!"

            He chuckled and smirked. "If Santa appeared to little kids in the Caribbean or Africa or Afghanistan, maybe I would believe it. But since Santa doesn't feature in the culture of 3/4s of the world, it seems to be more of an invention of Coca-Cola than a shared belief of the collective human consciousness… and then there's the eternal question… how can he deliver all those toys in _only one night_?"

            She shook her head, "For a scientist, you sure have a lousy imagination…ok, so you don't believe in fairies or ghosts… what about the subtler things? Like God? Or karma or fate for that matter? Don't you believe in those things either?"

            This time, he thought about it and how to answer. "Come to think of it…" he said, I don't think I believe in any of it. Nope. Not at all."

            Tiffany stared at him dubiously. "What do you mean, none of it?"

            He simply shrugged. "None of it. They've never been real to me so… I guess I don't believe in them."

            Tiffany, however, just shook her head. "You must be so sad." She said, with wonderment mixed with something else he couldn't identify.

            Dennis blinked, truly taken aback. Tiffany looked like she meant it. "Why do you say that?"

            "Look at yourself. You don't believe in anything important."

            "Science is important." He said defensively.

            "Science is not all there is." She replied. "Life without dreams is not worth living."

            He snorted to himself. "Dreams are overrated. The only things I can trust are what I can prove empirically and the only certainties in this life are death and taxes." He thought back to Mary, to the sleepless nights, to the boringness in front of the TV. "There's not a lot to life. There's no great beyond. There's here and now, and if that isn't enough, then it's just too bad."

            Tiffany only gave him a deep, sympathizing smile. "It's ok." She said, in that mysterious tone he couldn't possibly grasp, unable to read between her lines. "Miracles are out there. You haven't seen them, but they'll come to you in time. But you got to open your eyes and see the signs."

            "What signs?"

            "There's always signs. When something important is about to happen, the whole nature announces it. She doesn't yell it. She just… sends us odd little signs. There comes a time when out of the blue, you notice something amiss around you and that's a sign. Something odd. Something amiss. Something you can't put a finger on. That's a sign."

            "You sound like Melquisedec… a friend of mine. He keeps telling me the universe has some grand design and I'm supposed to figure out my part in it."

            "That's wonderful! Couldn't put it better myself! I think you do. Or else you'll never know what you're about and be forever unhappy."

For once, Dennis was at a loss of words. Tiffany took that as a victory and considered the matter settled. They continued to do their tasks, talking of less important things. Still, the whole conversation hung over his head.

Why did she think it was so important to believe in the supernatural? Maybe it was an escape from an ordinary, boring little life. Dennis at least admitted his life was boring and accepted it as such. He didn't believe he was in any trouble because of that: he was a nice guy and he was happy. More or less. _Well, I'm as happy as I'm going to get. Mary is gone and she was the light of my life…_

Or maybe that was the whole problem.

That stopped him dead on his tracks. He stared at the papers surrounding him and knew they bored him to death. Tiffany was fascinating company, but she couldn't understand him. _Am I really happy? He wondered, __Or__ am I really sad for that matter? _

He shook his head. Tiffany's little talk was really going to his head and it shouldn't. Scientists don't believe that sort of voodoo._ As far as I know, I only am. And that's good. Not excellent or bad, but…good. And it's enough._

First Melquisedec, then Tiffany. The world is full of superstitious fools.

_But you're a fool too, remember?…_ a little voice muttered_… their meeting was thick with birds. Remember?_

"Yeah," he muttered, "I remember…"

*                         *                         *

_It was an indoor garden. Why a garden, or how did it look like, he wasn't sure. Everything was fuzzy, even though it was plain daylight. It was full of trees and rocks, and it was surrounded by a wall made of stone. Green moss covered most of the chunks of rocks around, but it looked nice; peaceful even._

_It was, in fact, a delightful day. He looked up, and the sky was a perfect shade of blue, complete with sets of white clouds. Sunlight leaked between the leaves of the trees —it was a spring day, but it was fairly balmy and he was wearing a jacket— and all the colors looked unnaturally bright. Green was greener, blue was bluer, red was redder. The aura of the colors made everything fuzzy, every object lost its edge and border, every line was undefined and there was only bouncing, living color._

_He saw Mary in the distance, sitting in the bench, talking to a man, but he couldn't make out his face. She noticed he was coming, smiled and waved. She said something to her companion, jumped off her seat and ran to meet him._

_She threw her arms around him and gave him a quick kiss. "Come on, Dennis. Me and Lester have been waiting for you all day!"_

_He stared off towards the man and saw him wave hi to him. He still couldn't make out his face._

_Then the fluttering began. He looked up and saw a flock of birds —all of different colors, all colors unusually alive— circle above them and perch themselves high on the stone walls surrounding the garden._

_And they were all staring at something._

_But not at him, nor at Mary.___

_He turned around and saw two men stand face to face a few meters away from them. The colorful birds were flying in circles above them, and the birds of the top of the walls were staring their way, only interested in them._

_            "Isn't it nice?" a smiling Mary said, as she playfully grabbed him by the arm and leaned her head against his shoulder, "They're in love. And their meeting is thick with birds."_

_            "Why are the birds so interested?"_

_            "Because it's always interesting to see how things that fell apart fall together again. Maybe it takes three lifetimes, but eventually, we get it right. We always get it right."_

_            "I don't understand."_

_            She shrugged. "Neither do I."_

*                            *                           *

The only dream he could remember in his life and he couldn't figure it out. And it happened, precisely, on the night of the Big Sleep. He'd fallen asleep like everybody in the city and finally dreamed. It was the only positive thing he got out of that dreadful night. He felt a bit guilty that he had enjoyed it so much. To sleep and dream.

He wasn't sure if the dream had any meaning, but it had bothered him for awhile, because there had been nothing he didn't understand, and he couldn't possibly figure out the dream. But it was a matter of wounded pride more than anything. And he admitted he liked it. To dream, that is. To finally dream.

He immediately chastised himself. He was being a superstitious fool and he really, really hated it.

_Birds and couple of guys…means nothing. Nothing at all…_

He was letting Tiffany's talk get the better of him. If the gods knew that he would be unable to be happy without Mary, then why did they take her? The more he thought about it, the more absurd it seemed to be.

If everything had a sign, then why didn't he see it coming? The explosion. The fire in the lab. He could barely remember what happened next. He could barely remember what he did with his life before he started this new job. That strong was the impact of Mary's absence in his life. And he hated it. Hated, hated, hated it.

And he couldn't do a thing, not a damn thing, to change the past.

No. Maybe it was safe to say that he was unhappy with his life. If Mary was light and joy, now he had nothing. Just an old wheezing dog and an empty apartment and a stress-filled job that did nothing for his constant, unending insomnia.

How could anyone possibly expect him to believe in something else when this was all he knew? What, the heavens were going to open up for him and somebody was going to explain why his life was meant to be screwed up? Please, by all means, please do.

_If fate exists, then Mary was fated to die and that makes fate a mean old bitch. Who wants to believe such a thing? It would mean that there's truly no justice in the universe, that everything worth writing is already written and we're all trapped in that story. And I refuse to believe that._

He refused to believe in fate. If it existed, then Fate was a petulant bitch that made everyone dance to her tune. It wouldn't be fair to leave the lives of mortals in the hands of such a lousy and authoritarian god. It would mean that there's no free choice; that everybody had to do what they were destined to without having a say-so in the matter. So he was forced to believe in only the things saw. The loneliness in front of him, in the back of him and all around him. Maybe death, loneliness and taxes were the only sure things in life. 

It was nearly midnight when they were done with what they were doing. Tiffany started to pack up her things.__

All that talk about the supernatural had distracted him from the really fascinating questions in his mind about his employer, which was the only reason he had invited Tiffany to join him anyway. At least he had some idea of what happened; now he could deal with it properly.

            Tiffany was about to leave when, almost like an afterthought, Dennis asked, "If Mrs. Xanatos and the baby died that night… why did Mr. Burnett leave at such a difficult time?"

            "What?" she said, a bit sleepy.

            "Mr. Burnett… he left just when Mr. Xanatos' family died. He must've been… devastated… why leave when he needed him the most?"

            Tiffany, already sleepy, perked up almost immediately, "Oh, that's the other secret of the cosmos, Dennis… According to Mr. Xanatos, he's very…ill… But I don't think anybody has seen him since the Big Sleep either…" her tone turned little more matter-of-factly, a little more sober, "…at least he admitted his family died…" She shook her head and added, her tone grave, "Look, Dennis, I know you're very curious about what happened, but if I were you, I'd stop digging any deeper. I told you basically everything there is. There's no need to keep asking around. Remember you accepted our pact, and while we guys at the office aren't stuffy, we don't like it when people sniff around." She smiled a little, "You accepted the deal, Dennis. Now there's no way out of it."

He expected a more detailed explanation but Tiffany left it like that. She turned away and walked right out of the office, after a goodnight and a yawn. "Honestly," she added, "You should worry more about yourself, Dennis. After all, their lives are none of your business and you look like you could use some cheering up yourself."

He wanted to ask what she meant by that, but she had already disappeared down the halls.

Dennis was left in the office to clean up and organize a few random papers. Tiffany's revelation was still on his mind. _Mr. Burnett was his right hand, vice-president… and quite possibly his very best…_

Without helping it or trying to stop it, he felt sorry for David Xanatos. He truly, sincerely, honestly felt sorry for the man. He knew very well how hard it was to lose a girlfriend… and Mr. Xanatos had lost a wife, a kid and a best friend all at once.

Just like that, he stumbled upon the truth that David Xanatos was unwilling to face back when they first met.

Just like the wife and the child, Mr. Burnett wasn't coming back either. _They're never coming back, are they?_ Poor guy indeed. Part of the tragedy of life.

Still, Tiffany was right about one thing. It was none of his business and he should worry more about himself.

PART FOUR

Time went on, as it usually does, when he dignified the office with his presence.

It was late. The sun had fallen some time ago. From the darkness of his office, he was finishing the reports of the third quarter when he realized he couldn't take it anymore. David Xanatos had been staring into the dull, meaningless numbers for so long it seemed his whole life was the numbers and there was no significance and no life beyond them.

So he went to look for somebody to talk to.

It was late, too late. Tiffany was already gone. Peter and Michael were probably busy elsewhere. Maria and Nell had too much work to help him.

And that left the new guy.

The new guy. Well, he was hired, so might as well put him to some use. He had barely talked to him since the day John Stevenson tried to hire him behind his back. The outrage alone had steered him away from… Dennis, was it? Dennis Anderson.

Tonight, though, he was so bored he was forced to swallow his pride. All right. He'll get him.

Dennis didn't notice him until the latter cleared his throat.

A pro at sneaking up on people, Dennis hadn't even noticed him come in. When he saw David Xanatos by the doorway with his arms crossed, he let out a frightened little gasp. It wasn't loud, but it was obvious. Xanatos didn't seem to mind. In fact, it amused him.

            "Can you type?" he asked without a preamble or warning.

            Dennis blinked. He was obviously fumbling for an answer. "Sure." He replied, in a most definitely unsure way, "Is there, uh, anything you want me to do? You know, type?"

            Xanatos stood there by the doorway and stared at him for a moment. He was so different from Owen. Then again, Owen was one of a kind. It was clear this Dennis wasn't the epitome of efficiency the other was. Which was understandable. Dennis was only human. "Come on," he said cheerfully, "I need you upstairs."

            "Upstairs?" Dennis blinked. He hadn't even seen the castle yet. Hadn't dared to ask about Mr. Burnett's supposed office up there.

            "Yeah, upstairs." Xanatos replied, "What, is there an echo in here?"

The ride up the sterile gray elevator was an adventure into itself. He was allowed a better look at Dennis Anderson. He looked like a nice guy. He had brown hair he didn't seem to pay much attention to and loose clothing that looked a tad informal. Everything about him seemed relaxed and unceremonious. Or maybe he compared him too much to Owen. 

The elevator's doors dinged and opened, to reveal the main hall of what was known as castle Wyvern. They hadn't said much to each other, which made the long ride up a bit awkward.

Dennis probably knew it was very impolite to stand there like a moron and simply stare, but Xanatos knew very well he couldn't help it. Xanatos often forgot that the main hall was outstandingly impressive for the untrained eye, decorated with ancient drapes that hung around the walls, a carpet that seemed to be God's gift to the castle and a really impressive chandelier that hung from the ceiling —a ceiling that was considerably elevated.

In short, it was everything you'd come to expect from the throne room of an ancient Scottish castle. But since Dennis had never been in a castle before, this must've been wonderful.

The most interesting part he noticed last. The really wondrous section in a castle filled with wonders was the lack of an eastern wall. Instead of a stone wall, they had a huge glass that served for those purposes that overlooked the entire city of New York. Dennis seemed genuinely enchanted with it.

"I know what you're thinking…" Xanatos teased, "…'can I see my house from up here?'… by all means, be my guest. I doubt you will though. The castle is so high we're quite literally above the clouds." He smiled a little, mostly to himself. "Something of a private joke for me. I don't expect you to understand."

Ignoring that remark, Dennis moved closer to the window and stared down, taking in all the lights and sights of the city below them. It was beautiful. More than that, it was delightful. It gave everybody that peeked down an excited shiver, to be able to look down on the world so casually. He mentioned it to Xanatos, but the millionaire just shrugged, knowing that feeling all too well. "You get used to it. Come on," he said, "We have work to do.

He followed Xanatos down a few darkened hallways towards his office and told him to watch his step. The castle was something of a maze, with so many doors and so many corridors. If Dennis was going to spend more time in the castle, he needed a map.

Nevertheless, they were in the office. It was a pretty big one, the master bedroom in the days of old. Now it was a neat office, with a huge black desk here, a potted plant there and a huge work station embedded in the left wall. Everything was big and stylish, just like the owner.

However, the exquisite beauty of the desk's design was partially hidden by the stacks of paper all over it. Xanatos grunted softly. He needed to take some junk off that desk as soon as possible. So the billionaire grabbed a stack of papers and shoved it into Dennis's arms. "Memos and letters. Lots of them. Type 'em and leave 'em in Tiff's desk. She'll know what to do."

Dennis took a quick glance of the papers. Everything was hand-written in a hurry, and it was kinda hard to make out. Chances were that had Xanatos bothered to contact him earlier, Dennis could've done the letters himself, without a first draft. But Xanatos didn't like the idea of a total stranger handling his stuff. He was too stubborn to actually admit defeat, and it wasn't until he saw five projects' deadlines dangerously near that he asked for assistance. But only on the trivialities. The rest was too important.

"Stay here and use my computer. I could use some company. Coffee's a day old, but I'm sure it won't kill you. Frankly, I think you and I need to get to know each other if you're going to stick around." Xanatos said, serving himself some of the after-mentioned coffee. He tasted it and made a face. "The taste alone will keep me up for hours…"

Unsure of what direction the night would take them, he settled Dennis down in front of the computer. Xanatos, considerably less anal than most CEOs out there, moved his stuff to the floor and sat down on the carpet, continuing to do his odious third quarter reports.

            "So…" the millionaire began, trying to sound pleasant and agreeable. Didn't want to scare him off yet. "Tell me a bit about yourself, Dennis. Any hobbies or interesting things I should know about?"

            Dennis was a bit startled. Probably didn't know he was expected to chit-chat with him. "There's not much…" he said lamely, "…I'm not an interesting person. What do you want me to say?"

            Xanatos shrugged, "Say anything. First things that pop in your mind."

            Dennis rubbed his hands against his knees, trying to come up with something. At first glance, he looked like a kid introducing himself in a new school. "…I'm from Chicago… I have a dog, name's Kennedy… Been working in genetic research for most of my life, first at college, then in the private sector…" he smiled softly, and got ready to draw a laugh "…and like a good little geek, I've been known to dress up like a Vulcan once in a while…Mary once tried to make me a Klingon, but they're not my type…"

            "Mary?" Xanatos arched an interested eyebrow, "Girlfriend?"

            "Ex-girlfriend…" Dennis replied, "We sorta broke up…"

            "Oh." Mauling over the things he said, Xanatos thought that maybe he was right; maybe he was a boring person. He certainly didn't say anything interesting yet. He didn't look like the talkative type either. Great. This was getting duller by the minute. He decided to goad more information out of him, "Well, for what company did you work? Anyone I know?"

            "You should. My last job was in Ulead Genetics. I was a lab assistant."

            That definitely caught Mr. Xanatos' attention. He dropped what he was doing and stared intently at Dennis. Little alarm bells sounded off in his mind. Oh, he knew Ulead Genetics, knew it well. "Lab assistant…?" he questioned, having a bad feeling about this, "Who was your supervisor?"

            "Dr. Anastasia Renard. You heard about her?"

He tried not to look too shocked, but the name had struck a chord and Dennis had definitely noticed. _Anastasia Renard. Your name keeps popping up in every little thing I do, doesn't it? He thought bitterly._

            "Anastasia…" Xanatos repeated quietly "…she owned that company, didn't she…? She was involved in every aspect… always the damn scientist…"

            "That's right…" Dennis said warily, aware there was something wrong connected to the name, "…she loved research. Insisted on overseeing of all our projects. You don't see a lot of CEOs doing that. A brilliant woman, she was always working side by side with us…" he sighed softly, "…then one day she decides to retire. Drops what she's doing, sells and the new owners shut us down."

            "Gen-U-Tech." Xanatos said listlessly, staring into empty space. "Gen-U-Tech was your new owner. We were never interested in your research, you see, we only wanted to eliminate the competition…"

            "Excuse me?" Dennis mumbled, truly taken aback.

            "I know about it because _I_ own Gen-U-Tech." Xanatos finally sighed, as if confessing to a sin. "Gen-U-Tech absorbed you to take you out of the way…" he sighed, "I thought Anastasia was just doing me a favor, selling such an up-and-coming company at half-price… but all she wanted to do was get rid of it…and I never saw it coming…" Xanatos simply trailed off. He shook his head, trying to get the thought out of his head, and attempted to smile. It was painfully transparent. "Congratulations," he said morbidly, "You're working for the man who put you out of business. No hard feelings?"

_Now it makes sense. I still remember that day. You phoned me out of the blue and told me you wanted to sell your company. Said it didn't interest you. Damn it, I should've seen it. Should've known right there that something was wrong. You adored that company, you were always a scientist. A scientist first and a sorceress later. You loved your research. But you gave it all up to run off with that—_

            He shook his head. Why grovel over the details now that it was too late? Then he abruptly changed subjects. "Sorry to drag you all the way up here so late at night," he continued, "Just finish those things and go home. Too late to do this sort of shit…"

            " 'S ok. I'm not sleepy." Dennis replied casually, "I can hardly shut an eye at night."

            "Why?"

            "Uh, trouble sleeping. Insomnia."

            Xanatos eyed him with interest. "You don't look like one."

            "Excuse me?"

            "You don't look like an insomniac. You're alert and your eyes aren't bloodshot. Doesn't lack of sleep affect your brain? I remember that when it happened to me, I wasn't such a happy camper." That was an understatement. Those were a really awful couple of weeks. Thank God dad was around to keep him company. But even he left eventually. Xanatos shrugged, "Come to think of it, I hardly sleep at night either. The schedules of those vampires must've rubbed onto me…"

            "What vampires?"

            Xanatos opened his mouth and closed it again. He said the following words with profuse care and some curiosity. "Oh, long story. Why? Do _you believe in vampires?"_

            Dennis couldn't help but chuckle. "Wow, it's like everybody is asking me the same thing over and over again. It's just that I had a little talk with Tiffany the other night about the supernatural and such. The truth is I don't believe any of it."

            The millionaire didn't rebuff or argue about it. "Huh." He grunted, filing that information and keeping it on his brain for further reference, not quite sure what to make of it yet. Again, he jumped subjects, "Do you play any sports?"

            "What? Uh, no… never had the time."

            "Well, do you like karate movies? You know, martial arts?"

            "Yeah, those are great!"

            "Glad you think so." Xanatos said, " 'Cuz Thursday you have an appointment with Bruno from security for some basic self-defense classes."

            Dennis immediately un-brightened. "Self-defense?"

            "Yep."

            "Shouldn't you have consulted me before signing me up?"

            Xanatos looked at him, really looked at him. The thought of asking permission didn't even cross his mind. He deftly avoided answering and instead asked, "Well, are you going to do it or not?" But the twist he gave it meant 'you _are going to do it whether you like it or not'._

            Dennis caught the tone and gave him a frail little smile. "Sure…heh… sounds like fun…"

            "Excellent." He said, bulldozing that argument out of the way, "My assistants have to be part assistants and part bodyguards. I admit it was a bit sloppy from John's part to hire a science major, but since my life isn't in immediate danger, you'll do just fine until Owen comes back."

            He looked up at Xanatos, a bit taken aback. "He's coming back?"

            Xanatos returned the stare. Wonderful. Another unbeliever. Like he didn't have enough of those with the board members. "_Yes_." He said, uncompromising and absolute, and damned if he was questioned. "Mr. Burnett is coming back. I know him better than anyone else in this planet, better than I knew my wife."

            Dennis cowed back and mumbled an apology.

Realizing he was being too harsh on a simple and, quite frankly, reasonable question, Xanatos felt forced to give an explanation. "Mr. Burnett… is having a bit of family crisis. But knowing him, I'm sure he'll get out of it. He's very…he's very clever, you see. And he would never betray me."

"How can you know?" Dennis immediately asked.

It earned him another stare. Why, he was a curious one, asking personal questions to a total stranger that also happened to be the boss. He was asking too much. But Xanatos didn't know if it was a good thing or not. He didn't like being questioned, but it was nice that someone did. Odd, wasn't it? Everybody was so afraid to ask lately. Glad he at least didn't hire a coward.

"I just know." Xanatos said, even though he knew that explanation wasn't enough. "Let me put it this way, Dennis… I was screwed. I was screwed by someone I knew and trusted. I was cheated out my property and I am _damned_ pissed." He paused for a moment. "_But_…" he said, shaking his finger for emphasis in this that he held as an absolute truth. "I know how this world works. And if there's any justice in this world, any justice at all, this will not be going on forever. I have absolute certainty everything is going to work out. Don't ask me how or why. I just do. And Mr. Burnett is part of that solution, in more ways that you can possibly imagine."

"Justice in the universe? Yeah, I believe in it too. I guess it's ok to have a little faith…" Dennis replied. "… but what if he doesn't come back?"

Another impertinent question. It had been weeks before the board got the courage to ask him the very same thing, because they knew he'd chew them out. Now this one asks the same thing the second he meets him. He wondered what horror story he got, what office rumors he received from the secretaries. What did he think of him? Of all this?

Oh, he was almost sure he heard the latest urban legend spawned from the insides of Xanatos Enterprises.

            "Oh, he'll be back." Xanatos said with complete assurance, "I bet my future on it. And no matter what you may hear, it's not true that I'm jinxed."

            " 'Jinxed', sir?"

            "Yeah," Xanatos replied, with a rueful, bitter smile, "Some think that everyone that comes in contact with me ends up dead." He chuckled softly, "It's the running gag of the whole city. Don't work for Xanatos or you'll end up dead…" 

Yep. That was the latest gossip. Funny. Ha ha. Now the whole building tagged him as cursed. _Karma, Demona had sneered at him once, _Payback's a bitch, ain't it?__

He didn't know what was worse, that they told it or that they actually believed it. Everybody held it as a sacred truth that anyone who came close to him ended up dead. And with what happened, maybe, just maybe, it held a grain truth.

_Don't think like that, David Xanatos,_ he immediately chastised himself the minute the thought crossed his mind, _For that way lies the path to madness… _

He still smiled, but it was muted somehow. He softened even more, "…it seems everybody I …appreciate… always go away and no matter how much I try, I can't get them back…but I don't believe it…But this time it's different. I know Owen. I know he'll figure something out." 

That wasn't completely right, but it better be if he wanted to remain sane. He trusted Owen's manipulative abilities. Having dealt with that lord of all assholes for ages, he must've picked up a few tricks.

He _needed_ him to come back, to prove to himself and everybody that it wasn't true. That he wasn't jinxed. As stupid as it sounded, he almost believed it sometimes, but if Owen just came back… then maybe, just maybe…

_So many things have happened…I know I probably need to get my just desserts…but not like this. Please, please not like this._

Because in the end, even his father had deserted him.

He sighed wistfully and looked around him. Still sitting in the floor, he was literally buried in paperwork. It was too late to try to finish all of this. He was tired and he was sure Dennis was tired too, though he didn't show it.

            "You know what? Bet you can finish that in the morning. It's late. Go home and get some sleep. Or at least try to."

            "Oh, I really don't mind, sir. I'm not tired." Dennis replied.

            "Yeah, but _I'm_ tired. Deal with it in the morning. There's no rush." Xanatos replied, standing up from the floor and adjusting his clothes.

            Dennis glanced at him a bit unsure, but then he shrugged and did what he was told.

            "Oh, and would you mind reporting here tomorrow morning when you come in? We're having special guests coming over."

            "Guests? Who?"

            "Why, the police. Didn't you hear? Our security manager was murdered a few days ago. Stole various files regarding our company. Really, Dennis, you should know these things."

            "I… wasn't informed." He quickly excused himself, "I'm going to try to be more up-to-date on these things from now on, sir."

            "Good." Was the reply. "Go home then. See you in the morning."

Dennis took off into the darkness and Xanatos was left alone in the office. He started thinking over Celine Brault, the poor victim.

The police thought it was corporate espionage. Honestly, he wouldn't know until they determined what's missing. Nevertheless, Xanatos considered the option. Celine had access to security, personnel files, the commando… he didn't like it, but didn't see reason to worry about yet. Maybe it was time to change the security codes of key personnel again as a precaution.

He thought about it for a moment, and then made a mental note to act on that plan. No use getting complacent. The last thing he needed was snoopers around the castle.

The castle…

The castle looked so empty nowadays. And dark. It was at times like these that he really missed her. The castle has always been cold and drafty, but at least he had somebody to talk to. Maybe that's what he missed the most. The talking.

He suddenly wished he hadn't sent Dennis away so soon. It had been a long time since he had company. But it was late and tired and he didn't want to bore his new assistant with mindless chatter.

'New assistant'. The mere idea sounded so… wrong.

He opted to stop thinking about it and chose to go to bed. Instead of going to the master bedroom, he went to the guestroom where he was staying. When they had to fix the wreck caused by that overgrown Smurf, he had to move all his stuff elsewhere. Now that it was fixed like new, he had no will or interest in moving back. Ever.

He was tired. Thinking about this made him tired _and depressed. So he went to the bedroom, changed into his pajamas, flopped on the bed and buried himself in the covers._

He really didn't need this. He really didn't. And to make matters worse, Elisa was dropping by tomorrow.

_Spare me your lectures, Elisa Maza, _he wanted to say to her, _Nothing you could say can make me feel like I feel now. I was screwed out of my deal, but it's all right. I know things won't always be like this. Things will get better, right? Right?_

PART FIVE

She stepped out of the car, put her hands in her old red jacket and stared upwards.

_Here I am again…no matter what I do or what happens, I'm always drawn to this place…it's like a plague… The first time I came here I found a gargoyle and took him into my life, but I didn't see the mad scientists, the petulant gods or the eerie castles standing behind him…_

Matt was standing next to her, looking up, just like she was. The building was so tall they couldn't see the top. Clouds were in the way. They were on the steps of the entrance and different people were passing them by, either in or out the gray revolving door that lead to the lobby. But the Detectives just stood there, looking up.

"It always comes back to this place, doesn't it?" Matt muttered, echoing her thoughts, "The Eerie Building is so damn tall it can be seen all the way to New Jersey. Manhattan can't ever leave its shadow. And neither can we."

Elisa Maza sighed deeply, ruefully. "He knows we're coming. We would've come eventually. Sooner or later, victim or not, we would've come. What the hell. Let's get this over with."

Of course, she knew she didn't have to be there. She could've raised a fuss and refused the assignment. Or she could've stayed home or skipped town.

Of course, she also knew she'd never do such things. That she would've come eventually, with or without and excuse, because this was a place of destiny and there was no escape from it. Something would've come up. Sooner or latter, something would've come up.

_Why does my path_ _lead me back to this place all the time? she thought quietly, _What am I supposed to do here?__

She considered what happened, her life since she was aware until today, and thought she knew. She was here to make him pay. Whack Xanatos upside the head for wasting the chance Goliath had given him. No matter what Brooklyn thought, he was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

And she was going to give Xanatos a piece of her mind, once and for all.

            "Elisa… promise me you're not going to do a show." Matt pleaded with her before they went inside.

            Elisa blinked. Had they been partners so long he was beginning to read her mind? "Give me a little credit, Matt…" she muttered acidly, "I'll be on my best behavior given the circumstances."

            Matt groaned and rubbed his temples. This was going to be a disaster.

*                         *                             *

            "You're done with them? So soon?" Xanatos asked, genuinely surprised.

            "Of course," Dennis replied, "Delivered them to Tiffany's desk, just like you told me to."

When he said he wasn't tired last night, he meant it. This wasn't a vain attempt to suck up to Xanatos. After he was dismissed, Dennis soon found himself bored to tears. Might as well get _some work done. Boy, he really needed a hobby._

He had appeared at the office like Xanatos told him to. He didn't quite understand why he was needed, considering how well the millionaire did without him, but he didn't say anything. It wasn't his business anyway; he just did what he was told.

            But out of curiosity's sake, he asked, "Have the police dropped by yet? Do they need me for questioning or something?"

            "No, not at all. It's just that Detective Maza has a way to get on my nerves and I hate facing her alone. I very much suspect she'll question only me. You'll soon find out the good Detective considers me a special case. But she woke up early this morning and got all pretty just for me."

Maybe Tiffany was right. Maybe the world was full of portents and he was there to learn how Xanatos Enterprises fared with the authorities. From what he knew already, all was not a bed of roses.

Apparently, this Detective Maza didn't get along too well with Xanatos. The way he talked about her was with absolute contempt. Probably Maza thought the exact thing about him. This would be interesting indeed.

Just then, the telephone rang. Xanatos quickly picked it up. Whatever he heard, it seemed to amuse him to no end. "Sure, let her in…" he hung up and sneered, "It seems the ever-predictable Detective Maza and her boring little partner are here already. Am I a psychic or what?"

That spoken, he took out a small vanity mirror and a comb from a cabinet. He fixed his hair 'just so' then put the items aside. He accommodated himself in the chair, settling for the position where he looked his smuggest, with his hands together that made him look like he was up to something. "You just stand there and be quiet. You're gonna love this…"

Just what the hell he was trying to prove, Dennis had no idea. This job had been a bizarre test on his expectations since day one and he got a feeling it was about to get a whole lot worse.

Without any warning or invitation, the doors burst open and a young woman with a red jacket walked in like she owned the damn castle. Her hands were in her pocket and her face wore a mask of anger. Dennis couldn't tell if she was pretty or not, the scowl was in the way.

She was followed by a tall red-headed gentleman that seemed slightly embarrassed for his partner's entrance. He wore a cream trench coat, even though it was fairly hot outside, and seemed to want to make the best of this.

            "Ah, Detective Maza. It's been awhile since you dropped by the castle. I was beginning to think you had forgotten about me." He sneered infuriatingly and turned to the partner, "Detective Bluestone, always a pleasure…"

            "As you may or may not be aware of, somebody fairly close to you was murdered the other night. And —surprise, surprise— we're here to investigate." Detective Maza replied, crossing her arms, "I noticed she happened to work for you and I told myself, 'my, my, what is he up to _now'?"_

            Her partner rolled his eyes and mumbled something no one could make out.

            "It may come as a surprise to you, but I didn't have anything to with it. And why would I? She was my employee and her loss certainly doesn't reflect well on my company." And he couldn't resist to get the party started by adding, "I certainly hope a fine police officer like you doesn't jump to the wrong conclusions and start pointing fingers because an irrational vendetta…"

            "Vendetta!?" she snapped, "You arrogant prick! Because of you, Go—"

            "_Detective_!" Xanatos snapped to cut her off, then sneered some more, "Where _are my manners? Please, meet Mr. Dennis Anderson, my new aide-de-camp." He gestured to Dennis, who smiled meekly, "Now, you were saying?"_

For some reason, it cut off her insult. Apparently, this was a personal matter, and she couldn't go on babbling their little secret to just anyone. That, and she regarded the piece of news with some surprise. She stared at Dennis, not quite sure of what to make of him. "Right…" she muttered.

Just what was Xanatos trying to do, Dennis wasn't sure, but he seemed to be going out of his way to agitate the Detective. The Detective, though, was more than up to the fight. They hadn't spent thirty seconds in the office and they already started to attack each other. This was going to get interesting indeed. No doubt there was a fascinating psychological reason for that, but now wasn't the time to ask.

            After a few uncomfortable seconds of silence, Detective Bluestone cleared his throat. "_Anyway_…" he said, "…Celine Brault was found dead a few days ago by her husband. Her house had been searched, but nothing valuable had been removed. Only lots of files and papers. Which makes us think this isn't just a casual robbing. After all, she was the security manager of Eerie Building, the most important building of Xanatos Enterprises."

            "And naturally, you think her murder is work-related." Xanatos concluded, "Very good, Detective Bluestone. There's hope for the NYPD yet. And yes, she was in head of security and knew practically everything about the building and the castle. Oh, don't worry about me, I'll deal with internal security my way. You just worry about who's trying to infiltrate my company and stop them before they do any harm."

            Bluestone sighed. "I was going to ask if you had any enemies, but since that would encompass half the planet, just tell me which competitors are the _likeliest to pull that stunt."_

            "Well, off the top of my head, I'd say Dominique Destine. But I'm not sure, this isn't her style. She'd rather blow her way into the castle than formulate a decent plan."

            "So you think that's it? Someone wants to infiltrate the castle?"

            "That the only thing I can think of. Celine was security, so she knew her stuff. That, and she handled personnel files too, but there's nothing interesting there."

            "Honestly…" Detective Maza mumbled, "…I don't know why the NYPD is bothering with you. Why should we care if sleazebags like you get what they deserves?"

Business out of the way, Maza and Xanatos resumed the battle, which was the real reason why Maza had come all the way here after all. Lord forbid she should leave without her battle, and Xanatos was more than willing to bite her head off.

            "Oh, now…" He said, putting his legs up on the desk and leaning back comfortably, "Do we really want to go down that road again, Detective Maza? If you didn't want the case, you shouldn't have taken it… oh, that's right! You're looking for the golden opportunity to nail my ass for what happened…" His tone softened a little, but just a little, "…it wasn't _my fault. I'm a victim, just like you are. You know it but you can't get your little mind to wrap around the concept. Keep blaming me and you'll never get over it."_

            "You know what? I **_do_** blame you! You're just a magnet for trouble! Everybody that comes in contact with you ends up mutated, mutilated or just plain dead! Or better yet, in a fate _worse_ than death!"

Xanatos brilliant sneer waned for a moment. Detective Bluestone tried not to sigh and put a hand on her shoulder, "Elisa, drop it, this isn't necessary…"

            "He's not coming back and you know it! And in your heart of hearts, you know you had it coming! I'm actually sorry for the kid, it wasn't his fault he got _you_ for a father! And I'm sorry for Fox too, with such a bad taste in men… And Owen too, he tried to do you a favor and look what it got him! Everyone you come in contact with ends up screwed!"

            "Elisa…!" Detective Bluestone exclaimed, this time grabbing her by an arm as he tried to forcibly drag her out the door, "She doesn't mean it, honest…"

            "Better watch out, Mr. Anderson," she continued, twisting the knife, "…wouldn't want to end up like Owen…"

            "Elisa, that's enough!" Bluestone yelled, this time shaking her around.

            "—worst decision of his life—and the best part is that you're still hung up on him—everyone that comes close to you ends up screwed—"

            "Elisa, shut _up_!"

            All the while, David Xanatos said nothing. He just smiled a little smile that sent chills down a rational mind and made Dennis shudder. "That's not true. If it were, you wouldn't be here giving me a headache."

            "Goddammit, how can you be so damn smug!?" she barked back.

            "It's a gift."

            "Now I _know_ you're not human! Goliath was wrong about you and I can't believe he actually thought you'd change. The wicked don't change, they just burn in their own hells!"

            Xanatos didn't reply right away, but not because he was speechless. He smiled, but it was a mean little smile. "Come now, Detective. You and I know perfectly well I'm not responsible for any of this. But that's ok. You're burning in your _own_ hell already and I don't have to lift a finger to hurt you anymore. I can't make a fool of you when you're already making a complete fool of yourself."

Detective Maza's eyes widened, but she seemed unable to say anything.

Gloating over his silent victory, Xanatos said, "Mr. Anderson, please escort the good detectives out. They've just overstayed their welcome."

And he said so with such an irrational twist to the words that Bluestone didn't think twice and practically ran away, dragging Maza with him, a Maza that still couldn't find the words. 

But Xanatos didn't exactly walk away unscathed, because there was something definitely burning in his eyes. It had no words, for no words could describe it, but it was definitely something not to be trifled with. He was clearly struggling against an impulse that would make him do something stupid, and he had it more-or-less under control.

And Dennis couldn't help but stare in awe at his boss. He wished he just would've yelled at them to get out. The act of politely telling them to leave was the scariest thing Dennis had experienced in a while. Why couldn't he scream like normal people? Judging from his reaction, she obviously hit bull's-eyes a few times, so why didn't he yell back?

Not wanting to stay another second around him, Dennis muttered, "I'll… go kick them out…" and quickly ran after the detectives.

He ran on after them, but they were already in the elevator. Maza seemed to be shaken and her partner was yelling all sorts of things at her, "Elisa, how could you do this to me!? I told you we shouldn't have taken the case —Elisa, what are you doing!?"

Because Elisa had stopped listening to him and, just when the elevator's doors were closing, she spotted Dennis staring at them. She put a foot between the doors to avoid them closing and with her hands she wedged them open again.

            Frozen in his place, Dennis saw her approach him with a snarl and said, "You know what happened to his last assistant!?"

            Mute, Dennis could only shake his head.

            "He's in _hell_. Trust me, I know what that place is like and I know the owner. And he only wanted to help. But you know what? He got burned instead. Sent to the magical version of Alcatraz! And the really _sad thing is that the little kid is with him. Lord knows how that kid is going to grow up like down there. I can only tell you this, Dennis Anderson. _Run_. Run away. Go _away_ and never return. Because we're all cursed! Every single one of us! Tie your fate to ours and your life will never be the same!"_

That said, she marched right towards the elevator, where her aghast partner waited. The door closed behind her and she was gone, gone to wherever it was she came from.

"Too late." Dennis mumbled, "I already did."

*                      *                       *

That was… different.

He walked slowly back to the office, still trying to get over what he experienced. So Xanatos and the cop were willing to beat each other senselessly if given the chance. Why did Xanatos call him anyway? Why did he want him to see that?

He admitted the encounter was revealing in more ways than one. David Xanatos wasn't as cool-headed as he pretended to be and got some perverse enjoyment out of teasing a person more miserable than himself, namely Detective Maza.

Dennis' problems paled in comparison to theirs. His only problem seemed to be a lack of hobbies.

When he got to the office, he found Xanatos looking out his window, with his arms around his back, looking like he was king of the world.

            "Sorry you had to see that." Xanatos said, cool and evenly, a far cry form a man who looked like he wanted to break something a few minutes before. "I figured you would need to learn about her eventually and now seemed to be a good time. You see… the detective and me have a little feud going. Since she's going to handle Celine Brault's murder investigation, it's safe to say we'll be seeing a lot of her in the coming weeks. I felt that you needed to be prepared."

            "What kind of feud is it, if you don't mind me asking?" Dennis replied, concerned and intrigued and appalled at the same time. "She hates you to death and you clearly hate her back. All that time you kept attacking her—"

            "Attacking her?" Xanatos interrupted, "I was _defending_ myself. She has been downright intolerable these last few months, attacking me constantly every time she sees my face and I'm defending myself. The woman makes a mockery of what happened to me and I'm supposed to stay _quiet?" He snapped, but just as quickly calmed down. Still, he snorted softly. "She started it."_

            "All right…" Dennis allowed, leaving it at that, "Well, what do you want me to do?"

            "To be prepared. That's all. Elisa got some very… remarkable… friends." Xanatos replied, matter-of-factly, "I just want you to be prepared for anything. Especially at night."

            "What happens at night?"

            Xanatos debated whether to tell him or not. He decided not to. "Nothing, if we're lucky. Just watch out. If you happen to see anything out of ordinary, you call me first." For a moment, he wanted to add something, but again chose to leave him in the dark. With an air of finality, he said, "That'll be all. Thank you, Dennis…"

That was his cue to leave. God, maybe he had it right the first time. He was here to learn how bizarre things could get in this company.

_And I already signed…_

PART SIX

Kennedy, his old dog, was the first odd thing Dennis noticed the day it stormed for seven hours.

Kennedy, who never moved from his corner unless he definitely had to, spent all night running around the apartment like a puppy. The twenty year old dog rejuvenated and demanded his whole attention all the time. He left his apartment and Kennedy was still hoping on the furniture. He wished he'd get it over with already.

Even as he walked a couple of blocks to the subway —when the sky was unremarkable and it looked neither sunny nor clouded— stray animals in the street were acting peculiar. He couldn't place a finger on it. Maybe it was the way that stray cat looked at him from an alleyway. Or maybe how the blind man's guiding dog barked. It was something, something most peculiar.

"Right…" Dennis muttered to no one.

The second thing Dennis noticed wrong that day was how quickly and suddenly the dark clouds took over the sky and the rain began. When he approaching the building, the rain clouds appeared out of nowhere and it began to rain precisely when stepped inside the lobby. Thirty more seconds and he would've been soaked.

The rain didn't stop. The New York skyline was thick with clouds that covered up the sun and made it seem like night. Outside, the light posts flared up, confusing day with night. In short, it was a miserable day.

Good thing, then, that he worked inside and didn't have any need to leave until late at night. Still, by the afternoon, he was wondering if it would ever stop. The rain was as infinite and continuous as time. Maybe he was going to get wet even if he left in the wee hours of the night.

It was something odd. But he couldn't explain why.

*                     *                       *

The news of Celine Brault's murder spread like wild fire throughout the building. They did have the decency to confirm the news to the people of her floor. Two other managers, Maria and Charlie, gathered in a conference room to digest that uncomfortable piece of news, trying to figure out the way to pass the information to the people of their departments.

Dennis didn't feel too deeply for Celine, considering he barely knew all of them, but he knew enough that this was a delicate situation. "She was the brunette at the end of the hall, right? What did she do?"

            "Security manager. Supervised Bruno and the rest of the Commando Squad —or the Goon Squad, as we like to call them…" Charlie, a relatively young guy with blue eyes explained. He shook his head, "Dammit, she was a good person, the best. They say thieves broke into her apartment, got her killed and tore the place apart…and took everything she had on Xanatos Enterprises."

            "Just what we needed…" Maria, the dark skinned and somewhat hardheaded one of the bunch muttered, "…The last thing we need is a security emergency around here…"

            Dennis couldn't follow. "Why? What's the emergency?"

            "_Hel__-lo!?" Maria snapped, "Charlie just told you! This ain't some random mugging, we're talking about the head of castle security getting murdered in her own home! And with Mr. Xanatos _stellar_ track record with the authorities, we're going to have some problems!"_

            "Back off, Maria, he doesn't know what you're talking about." Tiffany explained. "Celine was a very important person, she knew everything about the castle. I don't know if this was random or planned, but when something like this happens, it freaks out the entire chain of command." 

            "It's always the security chiefs and the executives who get screwed." Charlie continued, "Me and Maria, we're accounting and communications, so we're useless. You and Tiff, on the other hand, are upper management." He gave Dennis a patronizing look, "Killers always aim at you guys."

            "Gee, how comforting." Dennis muttered.

            She sighed and added, "Knowing Mr. Xanatos, we're going to have to change passwords. Dennis, what did he tell you?"

            "Me…? Uh, he didn't say anything."

            "Well, what are you waiting for?" Maria barked, "Go ahead and ask him! That's what we're paying you for!"

            Dennis gave her a contemptuous look and swallowed the curse he would've loved to hurl at her. "Whatever. I'll let you guys know what happens."

*                         *                         *

After he went upstairs to the castle, he set out to look for Xanatos and found the day's third odd thing.

As for Xanatos, he was gone. He'd told him he would be in some meeting and should he need anything, to call. He hadn't actually left the building; he was supervising something about robots and coyotes. Dennis had no idea how machines and animals were connected, but he figured he would find out eventually.

In his way up inside the elevator, he agonized whether he should interrupt or not. After a few minutes, he realized the decision had been taken off his hands: he had lost Xanatos cell phone number. He felt utterly silly.

He also had no idea where it could possibly be. It was just like him to have all the important papers scattered around. That was so stupid; he should've put him in the speed dial on his own cell phone —brand new, courtesy of the company— the minute he gave it to him.

He supposed Xanatos wouldn't mind if he had a little look-see in his office. Just in and out. He knew that the millionaire didn't appreciate people sneaking around his office, but what he didn't know couldn't hurt him. He wondered if people like him still used rolodexes. 

The only great impediment he found was that the desk was cluttered with junk. Papers, files and all sorts of things that didn't interest him one bit. Well, that wasn't completely true. One paper among all of them jumped to his attention. A hand-written memorandum from a guy called Bruno. Bruno…Bruno… Right, Bruno from security.

He was supposed to have a crash-curse in self-defense from Bruno on Thursday, something Dennis was definitely _not looking forward to. He really hated jumping and running around. A miracle he stayed relatively fit with that hatred of exercise._

It was a list of what was missing from Celine Brault's home. _Nothing too vital, _read the note, _Celine was a smart girl. But the killer had a special interest in personnel files. That is, the lists of employees that have access to the castle. Needless to say, it's a short list. She didn't even have the updated list. The ones missing still marked Owen Burnett as an employee and hadn't acknowledged the existence of Mr. Anderson…_

Glad to know this killer didn't know he was alive. That was of _some_ comfort. 

He put the note back where he found it, and after awhile, he gave up on finding a rolodex or a book of phone numbers. That was simply marvelous. He felt like such an incompetent.

A thunder startled him and made him look out the window behind the desk. Outside, it was still raining; hell, it was like a hurricane. It was times like these when he regretted not watching enough TV. Maybe the news had announced this heavy rain and he was the last one to know.

He stared out the window for a little while. Even the sight of rain was amazing from up here. He dared look down, but it felt like he trying to make out a city through thick fog. Xanatos mentioned this castle was 'high above the clouds'. He was looking down at rain clouds. The thought amused him for some reason.

Then he thought he saw something flash in the air.

Then he heard a thunder that scared him out of his wits.

It wasn't a 'mere' thunder, like the ones you here in the distance and make you jump or make small children cry. It wasn't 'just' a flash of lightning from afar.

No, the lightning and the thunder came from somewhere _close_, something dangerously close, something that not only frightened Dennis; it knocked him to the ground, along with bookstands, papers and flower vases.

It was less thunder and lightning's work than a small explosion.

In fact, that made more sense than atmospheric accidents. _That's it! _Dennis thought, jumping to his feet, _Are we under attack or something?!_

Either way, he ran out of the office in desperation, but not quite sure which way to go. He chose to inspect the damage and see what was going on —he would look quite stupid if it turned out to be thunder after all, even though that option got more unlikely with the passing seconds. And who knows, maybe they were being invaded or something. He heard enough horror stories from Tiffany. Armed enemy commandos seizing the castle weren't so outrageous an idea.

But where did the sound come from? It was close, but not physically _inside_ the castle. The courtyard, maybe? That made more sense.

So he ran to the main throne room and made it out the huge doors that led to the patio.

He was greeted rudely.

He only had about thirty seconds to notice that the rain had stopped all of the sudden and that the sun was beginning to peek out of between the clouds. Before he could wonder about that mystery, he was attacked.

Attacked, not by men as he suspected, but by about a dozen frightened pigeons that suddenly jumped him —if that term could be applied to pigeons— and swarmed around him like pissed-off bees.

Two things crossed through his mind; that they were going to get stuck to his hair (only to remember that only happened to bats) and that they were going to poke him to death (like in that Hitchcock movie where the birds surrounded the telephone booth with the girl inside —did the girl die or not?)

He spun around violently, almost danced, like he was trying to put out a fire in his clothes, until the confused birds managed to get away from him or him from them.

Next thing he knew, he had landed ass-first in the grass, and the birds were safely up in the air; the whole flock circling the courtyard for a few more seconds until they flew away.

Still catching his breath, trying to take in what just happened, he heard the noise. Standing up, he looked around the yard for the source. It was completely clear now, the sun was shining like the clouds had never existed.

Then he saw. And he couldn't help but mumble, "What the…?"

*                         *                           *

The phone call had been unexpected.

David Xanatos was listening to a Dr. Watson blab about the latest upgrades to the Steel Clan. Xanatos himself had ordered the upgrades, realizing with the latest fiasco that the Clan needed serious upgrades. True, they had been of some use, but they were only machines that—

The phone on one of the desks rang, breaking his train of thought. A tech assistant picked it up. The tech made a gesture to Watson to be quiet for a second and said, "Mr. Xanatos, it's for you."

            Bewildered, Xanatos took the phone and put it to his ear. _"Mr. Xanatos," the voice replied, and he recognized it as Dennis's, _"I'm so sorry to interrupt you, but we have a situation in the castle."__

            Xanatos straightened up and focused all his attention, "What? What happened?" he said, fearing the worst. Because things like this always turned bad, always turned sour.

            _"We have an intruder. He says he isn't, but I really have no idea how he sneaked inside the castle. He wants to talk to you, though, but he's kinda dizzy and we're in the infirmary…truth to tell, he's not making much sense."_

            Xanatos wasn't sure what to make out about that. "Infirmary, you say? I'll… be right there." And he couldn't help asking, just couldn't help it. "What does he look like?" 

            _"Blond, blue eyes…weirdest prosthetic arm I've_ ever seen…he says to tell you he lost his glasses… Hello? Helloooo?" __

Xanatos didn't hear the last part. By that time, the phone was dangling like a pendulum off the side of the tech's desk.

*                       *                       *

"He hung up on me…" Dennis informed the gentleman, "But I'm sure he's on his way."

"I bet." The man replied. He was sitting on the bed with his arms around his legs, staring idly at a wall. The nurse had gotten him to change from his wet business suit —ruined for good, most likely— and into blue pajamas.

He was also sporting a 49 degree fever and a bandage around the head from his fall. At least, Dennis _guessed he had a fall, for he found him laying unconscious on the muddled yard. Maybe it was the fall or the fever, but he wasn't making sense, mumbling incoherently half the time, drifting off every couple of minutes. He hadn't been able to explain how the hell he got there to begin with._

Dennis also wanted to ask him what was the deal with the stone arm, but knew he wasn't going to get much of an answer. He looked pale and sweating too, which couldn't be a good omen.

Then he started whispering, still staring into space, "He's coming, all right… running down the hall…pushing people out of his way…oops, he made her spill the coffee… got to the elevators… too slow for him… He took the stairs. How silly of him. We're five floors up… he's running, he's tripping…"

Dennis knew he should've called Xanatos earlier, but he never found the cell phone number. It gave him enough time to drag the stranger to the infirmary and help him out. He looked really out of it.

"…he's coming…just stopped a nurse… he's quite tired…looking, looking for the room…he found it. He's _here!"_

The door flew open and David Xanatos was there, grasping the handle like he had run a marathon. He was gasping his breath, attempting to say something, say anything.

But the stranger spoke first. "Hi." He said.

When he had enough air, Xanatos replied, "_Owen!?" then added, "Hi…?"_

Feeling that explanations were needed, Dennis added, "He's not feeling well…"

Xanatos didn't completely ignore him, but didn't know what to say. So Dennis took the moment to ask, "You guys know each other?"

Xanatos looked at him like it was the dumbest question he ever heard. But he also understood Dennis had no idea, no idea what was going on, and he allowed himself a smile. "Dennis…please, meet Owen Burnett. My… assistant."

Now it was Dennis's turn to be surprised. He stared at the new guy with wonderment and curiosity, mildly baffled to meet the Owen Burnett everybody kept talking about.

He felt like a fool for not bothering to look at his predecessor's picture, it would have certainly avoided tagging him as an intruder. Mr. Burnett was blond and blue-eyed, with very pale skin and around Dennis's height and weight. The one feature that drew his attention over and over again was his stone hand in the shape of a fist, but his eyes were also distinctive. He had very odd eyes.

As for Xanatos, he still didn't know how to approach the situation. Perhaps more baffled than Dennis, he couldn't decide the right words to say. Thankfully, Owen Burnett spoke first again.

"In the end, she couldn't even look at him." He said, as if continuing a conversation, but completely ignoring at least one of the other two men didn't have any idea what he was talking about. He was trembling even, the fever was getting to his head. "She couldn't, David. I think she even hated him. She even yelled at him, I don't remember very well…"

            "What's wrong with him?" Xanatos snapped at Dennis, finally hitting him something was odd, as the other babbled on.

            "We're not sure; I think it's his fever…"

            Owen Burnett was still rambling when Xanatos put a hand in his forehead. He grabbed him by the shoulder and made him lie down. "It's ok, Owen, just relax. Try to sleep."

            Burnett looked up at him and his eyes seemed to clear for a second. "She said she was sorry." He said meaningfully.

            Xanatos acknowledged the words and simply nodded. "Just stay calm. You're going to be fine."

Meanwhile, a thousand questions flooded Dennis's mind, like how Burnett got to the castle, where had he been all this time, and wasn't he supposed to be dead? The way everybody spoke about him made it sound like he was gone forever. 

But now wasn't the time to question them. Besides, after the initial shock wore over, Xanatos looked deliriously happy to see him again, though he tried hard not to let it show. He had so many things he wanted to ask him, that he wanted to say…

Dennis hated to interrupt, but there was another business at hand.

            "What are we going to do about the little guy?"

            Xanatos snapped up again, his eyes widening. The only thing he could say was "What?"

            "He came in with a baby. He can't be more than two weeks old. Practically a newborn."

The millionaire honestly ran out of words. He looked down at Owen, who merely gave him a little smile. And without warning, he gave him an effusive embrace, the most sincere one in his life. "_Thank you!"_

Owen looked a little startled, but he was clear-headed enough to return the embrace. Then Xanatos moved away, slightly embarrassed over the surge of emotion, then turned to Dennis, "Stay here and make sure the nurse gives him something. Got to see him, where is he?"

Dennis pointed vaguely to the right. "Next room…"

Xanatos exited without further ado and ran next door. Dennis followed him and from outside, watched him pick up the baby like it was the most amazing thing in the world.

Once the excitement was over, Dennis started thinking and questioning. _All right, what's this all about…? The dead comes back to life and brings a bundle of joy with him. But everybody thought…and whose kid _is_ this?_

For a moment, he thought it was Owen Burnett's son, but the boy's red locks made him dismiss the idea. Only one person in the Xanatos clan had red hair and she wasn't with them anymore.

The truth hit him like a sledgehammer. "Gotta be kidding me…"

And he realized he had walked into a mystery deeper than he would've thought. And the worst part was that he already signed the pact.

*                                *                                 *

            "Checkmate! Third one in the row! That's lousy, even for you, Dennis… Dennis?"

            He blinked and snapped out of his thoughts. "Oh, sorry. What?" he stared down at the game table and sighed. "Checkmate again?"

            Rabbi Melquisedec sneered gleefully and started rearranging the game pieces. "So I take it you've gotten interested in it."

            "In what?"

            "Your job!" Melquisedec replied, chuckling lightly, "Last time we talked, you really didn't give a damn about it. Now I bet you can't stop thinking of it, eh?"

            Dennis sighed deeply and muttered, "If you only knew…"

The part he had dreaded had come sooner than he expected. After he guessed the truth that fateful day, barely five hours ago really, Xanatos pulled him aside in Burnett's bedroom and had a little 'talk'.

_"Dennis,"_ he said, _"As you may have become aware of by now, it seems that the situation about your employment has…changed. Oh, don't worry. You're not fired."_

That was too bad, Dennis _wanted to get fired. Because he knew things were about to get worse, and they did. Xanatos confirmed it a couple of seconds later._

_"I have many enemies who no doubt will find Mr. Burnett's reappearance most interesting,"_ he continued, _"So while I figure out what the game plan will be, I'll appreciate it if you kept quiet about this. Not a word to anyone, not even Tiffany."_

Of course, that wasn't even the worst of it.

            "So," Melquisedec continued, back in reality, "Wanna talk about it?"

            "Old man, that's the _last_ thing I want." Dennis replied emphatically, taking another deep breath, "Let's just say things have been hectic lately."

            "Problems?"

            "That's one way to put it, I guess."

            "You sure you don't want to talk about it?"

_"And to seal our bargain, I think it's time I showed you a little something. I wasn't going to, but you've already met Mr. Burnett and gotten involved far deeper than I wanted you to. And I guess this won't do anymore harm."_

            "Oh, I'm _sure_." Dennis told the old rabbi. "You got your wish; my life is certainly more complicated now."

            "It's fate, I tell you! I've always known you're meant for something else, Dennis, more that a widower. I'm sure you're scared now, but wait and see. Your destiny will grow on you and you'll soon learn to love it."

            "I _better_." Dennis snorted, " 'Cuz I sure can't escape it now."

            Melquisedec looked at him, really looked at him. A sphinx's smile crept over his features as he arranged the chess pieces. "Glad you finally accepted it. _Now we're going somewhere."_

But he wasn't listening to Melquisedec, he was thinking back to that afternoon and that monitor in Xanatos' office. Creatures featured in that screen, flying, talking, fighting robots.

_"They're called gargoyles. Yeah, that's right. The urban legends are true. They sleep in stone by day and walk among the living at night. Long story. One I'll be glad to tell you."_

            "Now I know life is unfair," he chuckled to the old rabbi, "Just the other day, I was telling a co-worker how unfair life would be if something science hadn't admitted to be true suddenly _was_ true. Fate is unfair. It's a mockery of humanity and… it's a mockery of me."

            "What's this?" Melquisedec asked, truly concerned, "What's eating you?"

            Dennis shook his head, "I just… can't _talk_ about it."

            "Look," the rabbi said, "No matter what happens, how bad it gets, just remember to have a little faith. Things may look confusing now, but I've always believed destiny reveals herself to us one step at a time. There are presages all around us."

Dennis blinked. He felt like he had heard that phrase several times now. But he didn't feel like pondering it. His only faith, his science, had just been proved wrong and now he had nothing to believe in.

He had no light. He had no imagination. He had no Mary.

What was he supposed to do now?

The covenant he had so carelessly signed began to weight on him. Now that vote of silence had him at his wits end. He couldn't even talk to the nearest thing he had for a friend. He wanted him to help him figure out how to deal with this new information, these… monsters… and what that meant to his job, his life and everything he believed in, but it was impossible. Simply impossible.

What was he supposed to do _now?_

They kept playing chess for an hour or so, in uneasy silence, until the sun went down. This sunset was now meaningful, because now he knew what sort of things lurked at night and it made him feel unsafe. What else could he be missing? What secrets is David Xanatos hiding? What else is out there?

The rabbis around them began to pack up and leave. Even Melquisedec excused himself and left, leaving Dennis alone in the park to ponder all the new things he knew. Everybody was gone. He stood up too and got ready to leave. 

And just he departed the way of the falling sun, a flock of birds zoomed down next to him. This time, he didn't move or freak out. These birds were like tiny little planes doing pirouettes around him and expertly dodging him.

They circled him a few times, as if they were showing off for just him; and then flew away towards the sunset. It wasn't like last time. When—

"Their meeting was thick with birds…" Dennis found himself quietly mumbling.

And he began to wonder.

_TO BE CONTINUED…_


End file.
